Press end call
by twentyfourth and vine
Summary: He calls, she answers. He says he's not ringing from home. She's sure he hasn't given her his real name, but she hasn't given him hers, either. These things don't matter - she's just going to tell him a story.
1. The Secretary

**Press "end call"**

_I answer the phone on the second ring._

"Hello."

"Uh, hi."

"Hi there. I'm Marie. How are you doing?"

" - I'm good." _He's hesitant._

"Great. What's your name?"

"Uh - do I have to tell you?"

"Not at all. But it would be nice to know what to call you."

"Oh. Okay. Um - Anthony." _That pause was to allow him to think of something. Of course he's not going to use his real name. I'm not using mine either. _

"Hi Anthony. It's nice to talk to you. Is this the first time you've made a call like this?"

_Nervous chuckle._ "Yeah, actually."

"Well, I'm very flattered. Are you calling from home, Anthony?"

_He hesitates again_. "No. Ah - no."

"Well, that's fine, I don't really need to know where you are, the most important thing is that you're somewhere where you can be relaxed and comfortable. Are you relaxed and comfortable, Anthony?"

_Fabric rustling, like he's adjusting his position._

"Yeah, I am."

"I am, too. So, how are you feeling today?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Just okay? Well, I'm feeling really good. You want to know why?"

"Sure. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm feeling good because just now I've been thinking about my special fantasy. It makes me excited. Really hot and aroused. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

"Your fantasy? Yeah. Tell me." _I like his voice. Deep, resonant. I wonder if he's got his dick out yet. I wonder if he already had it out when he was dialling. Time to warm this up, give him a taste of what he wants._

"Okay, Anthony. Here it is. I want you to imagine that I'm talking about you, okay? Because I am. In this fantasy you're the big boss of the company I work for, the CEO. You run the whole show. You stride through the building and everything about you is so strong and powerful. All the employees watch you go by, and the men envy you. The girls _want _you. You're tall and lean, but we can all can see how muscular you are beneath your clothes. Your suits are made to measure, to show off your physique, and they're fucking expensive - I bet even your _ties _cost more than I earn in a week. People find you intimidating. You're at the top of your field, rich and successful. You're the sort of hotshot who gets into the society pages on a regular basis, but you're not just a dandy and a playboy. You're a high-achiever, worth every penny you make. And _handsome?_ You're so fucking hot it's a crime. You make _me_ so fucking hot it's a crime. Are you with me, Anthony?"

"Yeah. Yeah." _He sounds like he's smirking a little. He likes the way I'm describing him._

"I'm an office girl, one of many. I don't think you've ever even noticed me, but every time you go past I'm checking you out. I try not to let you see it. I love the look of your chest underneath those shirts you wear. I love the look of your thighs. God, if you knew the way I stare at your package I'd fucking die. It makes me squirm in my seat, stealing glances at your hands and imagining how they'd feel on me. Mentally measuring them, trying to work out the size of your dick from the size of your hands. You've got _big_ hands, Anthony. I'm so fucking wet for you, Anthony, every day I'm so horny. Sitting at my workstation, mashing my legs together because you've just walked past me and my clit has started to throb. During my break times I go to the bathroom, and I - I can hardly tell you what I do in there, Anthony. You'd think I was some sort of nympho. Do you want to know what I do?"

_His breathing is audible now_. "I want to know. Tell me."

"Okay. When I go to the bathroom, first I have to check that I'm alone, Anthony. I wouldn't want to be caught. I stand in front of the mirror. My job is very responsible and I have to dress in conservative outfits, but that's not what I'm like on the inside. I wear a skirt and blouse and a jacket to work, but nobody would ever guess at my underwear. None of them have any idea what's underneath my clothes, but I'll tell you. Have you ever seen the kind of bra called a shelf bra?"

"Ah - no."

"Picture this, then. A shelf bra pushes a woman's tits up, but it doesn't cover her nipples. They stick out over the top of the lace. In my case, my tits are probably about the perfect size for you to cup in your palms. My nipples are pale pink. Until I'm turned on, that is. Once I'm excited, they're really deep pink. Can you imagine that, Anthony?"

"Oh. Yeah." _Getting better._

"And my panties. I don't wear _respectable_ panties, Anthony. I wear panties that are made of mesh fabric that's completely transparent. And I don't shave all my hair off, but I trim. I've got _curls_ on my pussy, and you can see them through my underwear. You can see my slit, too. From the right angle you can see my _lips_. Nobody at work knows that, of course. They'd never even suspect it. It's my secret. Do you like my secret, Anthony?"

"Yeah - oh, yeah. It's a good secret."

"And I've got another secret, Anthony. I love looking at my body. My skin, my waist, my hips, my pussy, my tits, Anthony. Oh fuck, especially my tits. I love fondling them and squeezing them. I love rubbing my nipples and watching the color change as they go hard. That's what I do after I've been staring at you, when I have to go into the women's bathroom. That's why I wear a shelf bra. But Anthony, I can't just stand around in there with my blouse unbuttoned, fondling myself. What if someone came in and saw me? I'd get reported. You're the boss - you'd find out. I'd be in all sorts of trouble. You'd order me to come to your office for some sort of disciplinary procedure, wouldn't you?"

"Yea-yeah," _he pants_.

"So, Anthony, even though I want to stay standing in front of the mirror watching myself, I have to go to a cubicle. I have to be private and shut myself in there so no-one can know what I'm up to. God, that's when I wish you could be in there with me. I want to grab you by your fucking tie and drag you away from running the fucking company, and I want to blow your mind. I'd lock the cubicle door and shove you up against it, and my hands would be all over you. _All over you_. I'd show you how turned on you make me. Your body is so firm and muscled, I'd pull your immaculate shirt out of your pants and tear the buttons off so I could run my fingertips over your abs and your pecs. I'd grab your ass and hold it tight while I rammed my hips against yours. You're fucking tall, but I'd reach up to your face, and pull you down and _order _you to suck on my nipples until I whimper like an animal. Do you like the sound of that, Anthony?"

_He does, if his ragged breathing is anything to go by, and so do I._

"But you know what, Anthony? Even when I go to the bathroom and finger myself and pretend that it's _your_ fingers inside me, it's not enough. It doesn't satisfy me. I need to get closer to you. So one day when I know you've got appointments elsewhere in the city, I go into your office, shutting the door behind me. You've got a huge desk because you're the most important person in the corporation. You've got every fucking latest piece of technology there is, and even your own private bathroom. You're the _boss_. I sit in your leather chair and it feels so luxuriant against my skin, even through my tight skirt and my stockings. Then I stand, spreading my hands on your desk and bending over it, feeling the friction of my tits rubbing against its surface, imagining you're behind me, taking me hard, filling me, pounding into me. God, I'm _depraved_ to have these thoughts about my boss, when I'm such a quiet, unassuming girl. No-one would see inside my head and guess I have these dreams of being so rampantly fucked. You wouldn't have guessed that, would you Anthony?"

"Mmm. Uhh. No."

"But Anthony, do you know what happens when I'm in your office, fantasizing that you're fucking me? I suddenly hear a key in the lock. There I am, my skirt pulled up around my hips because I've had my hand in my panties, my blouse open because I've had my other hand in there pinching my nipple, and I'm so flustered and flushed and out of breath. I'm a mess, Anthony, I was nearly _climaxing_, right on your desk. It's shameful. Oh, I'm going to be in so much trouble if you catch me. What would happen if you found me face down on your desk, hand between my legs, touching myself Anthony?"

_Now he almost stammers_. "I - uh, I don't know. Tell - me."

"I'd get reprimanded, at the very least. I'd probably lose my job. There's no way I wouldn't look like some sort of sex-freak. I've been biting on my lips and I know they're swollen and red. I'm an employee, _masturbating_ on the CEO's desk. It's perverted. There's only one thing I can do - I have to hide. There isn't time to go anywhere but under your desk. I'm crouching in there as I hear you walk through the door - and you're not alone. Christ, there are other guys with you. They can't see me, but I'm trembling as you move across the room and I see your legs in front of me. You're talking, you're welcoming your guests, and I realize that you've got an important meeting going on. You sit in your chair, pulling it in closer to the desk, and even though I'm as far away as I can possibly get, I'm only _inches _from you. So fucking _close, _Anthony. Your crotch is practically in my face. It's right there. Your _dick_, right in front of my mouth. I couldn't ever in a million years have envisaged being this close to your dick, and yet here I am. And I get an idea so outrageous I can't believe what I'm thinking. Can you guess what I'm thinking, Anthony?"

"Are you - are you - thinking about my dick?" _This is going well, now. I hear a rhythmic sound, exactly what I want to hear. He's going for it. My story is having the desired effect. It's fucking working on me, too._

"That's_ all_ I'm thinking about, even though I'm in such a dangerous situation. I'm so fucking _horny,_ Anthony. I've wanted you so badly, for so long. I'm going to make you feel good. That's all I want to do, and I don't even care that other people are in your office. I start by putting my hands on your knees, and it makes you jump. Instantly you push your chair back, and this is the make or break moment, when I'm completely at your mercy. I must be such a sight, half-undressed, my hair in disarray and my tits in a scandalous bra, my nipples swollen and hard because I was already so aroused when you walked in. My mouth is open as I stare up at you, waiting for what you decide. You could fire me on the spot - fuck, you could make me stand up in front of those other men in the state I'm in, practically half-naked. But you don't. You act like I'm not even there, and you carry on talking, returning your chair to its previous position. And then, Anthony - then you reach under the desk, and touch my hair. _Fuck! _I just got your permission to carry on. And I'm going to keep going until you stop me. I'm going to touch you, Anthony. My hands are on your knees again, and they're moving upwards. Your thighs are so strong. So powerful. You're talking as I explore, and I'm getting closer to where I want to be. There's light coming through from the window behind you, and I can see where I'm heading. You're a _naughty_ man, Anthony, you're fucking kinky, because I can see an outline in your pants. You're liking what I'm doing, and the evidence is there. You're developing a _boner,_ Anthony. I feel dampness in my panties just looking at you, because Anthony, even at half-mast, you're impressive. Oh yeah. Another few seconds, and I find out that your dick is fucking _huge_."

_The sounds are faster. My caller's breathing is uneven. The sounds of him spurs me on._

"Tell me, Anthony. Admit it. Your dick - it's so massive I don't know how it even fits in your pants. I'm licking my lips with anticipation, wanting to see it. I've got to get my hands around it, get my_ mouth_ around it. I'm going to be so wicked, so sinful, sucking my boss off while he's in the middle of a business meeting. I'm going to _love_ it. Is your dick hard right now, Anthony? Tell me that you're hard for me."

"Oh, God. Marie - I'm hard. I'm so fucking hard."

"Tell me you want me to touch you."

"Touch me. I want it."

_It's all going really well now. He's turned on, I'm turned on._

"I hope you're not shocked, Anthony. You must think I'm really dirty, wanting to pull my boss's zipper down and reach in to his underwear, and grope his dick. All along the length of it. I want to feel the weight of it. I want to curl my fingers right around it and measure the girth. Fuck, I _am _really dirty, aren't I? All the time at work I'm acting so prim and proper, wearing my glasses and my sensible clothes and saying yes, Sir, no, Sir, while all I really want is to to rip my boss's clothes off and tongue his penis until it's rock hard and then push him back onto a chair and climb over him and _ride_ him. Am I dirty, Anthony?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're dirty."

"Oh, God, it's so shameful. But in the situation we're in, Anthony, I can't do those things. I'm hiding under a desk, you're sitting at the same desk, and there are other people in the room. I can't ride you, or fuck you in any way. I'm throbbing with want, but I can't do it. You're talking like you're not affected while I'm on my knees in front of you in agony. My panties are soaked, I can hardly breathe, and you're completely calm. But that calm is only on the surface, isn't it? Because I can see your dick is swollen. _Really_ swollen. Does it hurt when it's that hard, and it's confined, Anthony? Is it painful to have such a big hard-on compressed so tightly against your belly like that? Would you like me to do something about it for you?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"What would you like me to do?"

" - Take it. Take my dick. In your hand."

"Okay, Anthony. That's exactly what I'm going to do. My fingers are on your upper thighs, creeping slowly higher. I feel you tense a little, because you know where I'm going. Your underwear must be very tight, Anthony, with the way your dick is trapped sideways across you. I reach it, and my fingertips start to trace the outline, very lightly. You're mid-sentence but you stumble over your words the second you feel me touch you. You actually let out a groan, Anthony, but you disguise it as a cough. I'm stroking your shaft, and you must be - eight inches? You're massive. I'm taking my time, enjoying how fucking good you feel, and when I get to your head you groan and cough again. I'm exploring your ridge with my fingers, and your cock is twitching. You want _out _of that underwear, don't you Anthony? You need it. You need me to undo your pants and pull your dick out so it can stand up straight and rigid. It's going to practically jump into my hands, isn't it? You're wound up so fucking tight, you _need_ my hands. Am I right?"

"Fuck, yeah. _Fuck yeah_."

_I love the sound of his breathing now. It's uneven, jerky. His voice is husky. I imagine he must have his eyes closed, giving himself a visual. Picturing a girl with her tits heaving out of her blouse, lips open and wet, eyes heavy with lust, all her attention focused on his dick, wanting it. He's in a room with other people, she's hidden and they're not aware she's there, and she's fondling his erection through his pants. Wanking him. In public. It's filthy. So fucking filthy._

"Your zipper, Anthony. I've gotten hold of it. I'm sliding it down. You can't even speak any more. Someone's asking you a question, but you're staring down at your lap, where you can see my hands at the front of your trousers. You watch me find the slider, and you watch me pull it down. Your dick is straining against the fabric of your boxers, and there's a wet spot at the tip. It's pre-cum, Anthony. Especially for _me_. I want to taste it. I _want_ it. I curl my hand around your tip, and your shaft, and your length, and you're almost trembling now. When I slip my fingers through the elastic of your waistband and touch your skin for the first time, you gasp. _Fuck_. So do I. You're so fucking warm, and so silky. So _goooood,_ Anthony, so good."

_My own breathing is uneven, both from my words, and from what I see in my imagination. I'm picturing Anthony, and I see him as insanely hot. He's sprawled in an office chair, wearing a business suit and shirt, with a tie. One hand is in his hair, fingers threaded through the roots, almost clawing at it so that it stands on end, and the other hand is gripping the arm of the chair so hard his knuckles are white. His head is flung back, eyes closed, face twisted in what looks like pain. The top button of his shirt is undone and his tie, though still knotted, hangs loosely. His belt buckle is open, as is the front of his trousers. Bulging from the opening of his fly is a long, thick, erect, uncut cock, the swollen purple head glistening with pre-cum, and half-emerged through the foreskin. My God. What a fucking vision. I moan into the phone, and hear his breathing pick up even more._

"Marie, I can hear you. Are you - aroused right now?"

"Anthony, fuck, I'm so fucking excited. I'm touching myself thinking of you. I'm wet, and my fingers are sliding all over my clit. Anthony, I'm opening myself, wanting you. Talking about this fantasy is making me need to fuck you. My fingers aren't enough. I need your big hard cock."

_We're both breathing really heavily, and I can hear how fast his hand is going as he's jerking himself off. He's got to be near finishing, from the soft grunting sounds he's making._

"Anthony, have you got me on speaker?" _I know he has, I can hear it._

"Fuck, yeah."

"Are you using both hands? Are you fondling your balls as you pump your dick?"

"Yeah, yeah I am. What - what are you doing?"

"Oh, Anthony, I'm filthy. I told you I'm filthy. I'm finger-fucking myself, at the same time as I'm playing with my clit. Can you - hold on just a moment?"

"What?" _he says, sounding concerned._ "Marie - are you still there?"

"Oh, fuck baby, I'm still here. I just had to put my fingers in my mouth. I swirled my tongue round and round, getting them wetter. I like a _lot _of moisture, Anthony. It feels so good when I'm super slippery. I wish your tongue was on me, instead of my fingers. I bet your tongue is really soft and warm. I wish I had your face between my legs, and I could push my pussy into your mouth for you to suck on me. Would you like that?"

_All he can manage is,_ "uh - oohh," _I know he's close, I can hear the tension._

_I take a deep breath_. "Anthony? We haven't finished with my fantasy yet. I'm holding your dick, right now, as you sit there trying to maintain some self-control. But your self-control is breaking down. It's breaking down because I've reached inside your pants to hold your balls in my palm. You've spread your legs to give me access. And at the same time, I'm sliding my other hand around on your dick, slowly. Really slowly. I know you need me to speed it up, because your hips are starting to grind. But I've got you in my fist, Anthony, and I'm making you go slow. Do you know why?"

"Don't stop, don't stop. Fuck. Just keep talking."

"I can't let you come, Anthony. No matter how close you get to the edge, you can't come. What would fucking happen if you shot your load and you got semen all over the front of your clothes, and then you had to stand up as if nothing was going on? And Christ, Anthony - what if your come was on my face and in my hair?"

"Fuck! Let me come. I have to. I fucking have to - oh, Jesus, Maria."

"You're touching yourself right now, aren't you Anthony? Wanking. Gripping your dick and moving your hand up and down on it. How excited are you? Are you turned on?"

"I'm about to make a mess all over myself here. I'm ready to - please, don't stop talking to me."

"Here's what you've got to do, Anthony. Sit forward in your chair, all the way forward. Spread your thighs. Can you feel me, there under your desk, kneeling on the floor in front of you? My arms are over the tops of your legs as I keep working your dick. You can't see me, but can you feel me?"

"Yes - yes, Christ." _He's moaning. Good._

"Maybe we can do this, Anthony. Your balls are getting really tight. They feel so beautiful to me. Your dick is like fucking steel. We've got to time this right, Anthony. Are you ready for me? I'm going to take your gorgeous, giant, stiff cock into my mouth, Anthony, and I'm going to suck you _hard_. Tell your guests you need a moment - just one fucking moment, to gather your thoughts - and then put your hands over your face. I want you to come in my mouth. I want to feel your jizz shooting through your shaft, making your cock pulse in my hand. And I want your hot come to spurt into me, to the back of my throat, every last drop in my wet, waiting mouth, my lips holding you tight, my tongue - "

_I don't need to tell him about my tongue, because he's orgasming. He brokenly curses. I'm on the verge myself, teetering there, desperate to topple over._

"Marie? Fuck, baby, fuck," _God, what a voice he has. It goes through me like lightning._

"Oh, God. Christ. That was incredible. Did you get yourself off too? I didn't hear you come - did you come, Marie?"

"Uh, almost, Anthony, I'm - I'm - " _I gasp back, fingers frantic. _

"Oh, Marie, fuck, I wish I could have waited for you," _he answers, trying to catch his breath, voice low_. "I tried baby, but you were just too good. You made me feel so fucking hot, my cock was ready to explode, thinking about you touching yourself for me. Thinking about your pussy. I bet you've got the most beautiful pussy in the world, I just want to get my tongue into you and lick you inside and out, I want to feel your wetness all over my mouth, I want to suck your perfect clit. I want to make you come in my mouth, I'm going to do it, I'm going to finger-fuck you and lick you - "

_There's a roaring in my ears drowning him out, and I'm over the edge, soaring into freefall, bursting like fireworks. Moaning, panting, gasping, flying._

_And while I recover he's whispering things._

"You're fucking glorious, you know that? You've got the sexiest voice I've ever heard. Hearing you come made me hard for you again. And you were right about me having a big dick. You should see it right now. I'm ready for round two. Can we do that?"

_Well, that's not the way it works, sorry baby. Just let me collect myself and I'll tell you the rules._

"Anthony, I can't talk to you any more tonight. It was fun. You're a sexy guy. But I'm going to have to hang up now."

"What - no cuddle?" _he tries, in an attempt at humor. It's kind of cute._

"I need to get off the line. Thanks for calling me."

"Uh - okay. Well, thank you, Marie. That was an - interesting conversation. I think I'll sleep well tonight."

"I hope so. Good-bye, Anthony."

_Before he can say anything else, I press end call._

_Later, getting ready for bed, I'm thinking about Anthony. I enjoyed talking to him. Something tells me I'm going to sleep very fucking well tonight, too._


	2. The Assistant

**Press "end call" 2**

_The next day, the next evening - I answer the phone on the second ring._

"Hey - Maria?" _I know who it is instantly._

"This is Maria."

"It's Anthony here."

"Pardon me?"

"I spoke to you yesterday. Anthony. The CEO? With the - ah - big desk?"

_Funny._"The CEO? Oh, yes. With the big desk."

"Yeah. I'm glad you picked up. Is it okay that I'm calling you again?"

"Of course it is, Anthony. It's nice to hear from you."

"I've been thinking about you today."

"Mmm-hmm." _I've been thinking about you, too. A lot._

"I enjoyed talking to you. You're very... creative. I've been kind of distracted at work, actually,"_ he says._

_You're supposed to get distracted. But only while we're talking. Then you go back to your life._

"Well, I hope you've been able to carry on as normal, Anthony."

"I've been fine. Better than normal, if anything. I want you to talk to me again." _His voice is like music. That gives me an idea._

"I'd like to talk to you again. Are you somewhere you won't be disturbed, Anthony?"

"Yeah. I'm in a hotel."

"Are you comfortable?"

"Very. I just had a shower. I'm lying on the bed."

_Let's get straight down to business._"Good. I just had a shower too, Anthony. I'm not actually wearing anything right now."

"Oh. Christ."

"I have to get dressed, though. Immediately. I'm going out tonight, Anthony."

"Huh?" _He's confused._

"The firm I work for is hosting a gala event this evening. Black tie. You're giving a performance. You're an up-and-coming clarinetist. Critics and fans alike consider you the talent of the age. I'm thrilled I'll be in the same building as you, even though I won't see you play. My role is to stand at the registration desk in the foyer and check invitations as guests arrive."

"Ah. Okay." _He understands that it's started._

"You have a reputation for being difficult, so I'm kind of glad I won't be working with you directly. I hope I at least catch a glimpse, though. I've seen photos of you and you're stunning, like a rock star. Designers want you to wear their clothes, they want you to endorse their fragrances. You're always seen escorting beautiful women, and they always look half-stupefied, as though they've just had their brains fucked out. They probably have. That's part of your reputation as well. It's said your fingers can do anything, and their skill isn't just restricted to your instrument. Rumour has it your cock can do anything too, and that it's bigger than your clarinet. The things that are said about you make me tremble. I'm trembling right now, trying to keep my mind off those things. I've got to be professional.

"I bought a dress specially for tonight. I bought new underwear, too - ivory-colored, almost the same tone as my skin. And its texture is so smooth and silky it makes me feel really sensuous. But when I put the panties on, they're so sheer my pubic hair looks shockingly dark through them. I turn around in front of the mirror to look at my back view, and the panties have hardly any fabric. I hadn't realized they'd be so brief. My derriere cheeks are almost completely exposed. And then when I fasten the bra in place, my aureoles and nipples are clearly visible. I'm so embarrassed I blush. I'm a modest girl, Anthony, and this underwear set is scandalous. I wish I had time to return it to the store and find something that won't make me feel so - inadequately covered. Do you think it sounds as though my underwear isn't giving me enough coverage, Anthony?"

_I hear him swallow._ "It sounds just fine to me," _he says in a rough voice._

"You're very kind. But I'm self-conscious about this underwear. I'm glad no-one will see it. I step into my shoes and check my reflection again. They're higher than I'm used to, and they have a strap around the ankle. They make me four inches taller, and they really tighten my calf muscles. They even tighten my thighs. To keep my balance I have to arch my back, making my bottom stick out. I've always been self-conscious about my bottom, Anthony. Can I make a confession? I've got quite a - a rounded derriere, Anthony - it's a little bigger than I'd like. I feel like it's out of proportion. I'm a slender girl, with this generous, prominent derriere. I'm sure it jiggles around all over the place when I walk. Do you prefer a tight, firm ass on a woman, Anthony?"

"Fuck. No - I like the sound of yours."

"Well, I'm going to have to finish getting ready or I'll be late. When I slip the dress over my head and it falls down around me, I discover the measurements on the website must have been a bit wrong. It's lower cut than the picture indicated. I never, never show any cleavage, but this dress is exposing the tops of my breasts, and the valley between them. I feel like I'm flaunting, but I don't know what to do. I don't have anything else to change into and I'm running late as it is. I look into the mirror again and tell myself it's really not that bad. No-one will be looking at me anyway. I'm not even going to be in the auditorium.

Once I get to the venue, the venue manager pulls me aside. He wants me to deliver a bottle of champagne backstage. He says it's urgent and there isn't anyone else to do it. I make my way to the room calmly and knock on the door but when I see who's in there, my mouth drops open in surprise. It's you. You. In a tuxedo, tall, commanding, strong. You see the champagne, and point to a table. I step past you, and that's when my heel catches on something and I stumble and fall into you. You try to steady us both, but we topple and end up on the floor. "Hey," you say, concerned, and you reach to help, but then you stop. You stare. You just stare, frozen, with your mouth open. Do you know what you're staring at, Anthony?"

"You," _he breathes._

"Yes. I'd spent time putting my hair up, making it look elegant, but several strands have escaped. I can feel that I'm flushed, and the fall has knocked the breath out of me, leaving me panting. Seconds ago I was poised and elegant, now I probably look quite wild. But that's not the worst of it, Anthony. Oh no. I follow your gaze to see that my dress has fallen away from me completely, and you're looking between my legs. At my barely-there panties, and at what you can see so clearly inside them. _All of me_, Anthony. My mound, my slit, my lips, my clit. You can probably even see my - my _entrance_. All beneath a flimsy film of creamy-colored fabric that's so tiny it's almost pointless. Your gaze rises, and you can see straight down the top of my dress, to where my breasts have turned pink. You wrench your eyes away, I can see the effort you're making, but they go arcing back, to my centre, my core. I realize I'm getting damp. You must be able to see that too. Can you see that I'm glistening?"

"Yeah, yes I can. You're getting wet." _I can hear very slight sounds of sheets moving, and even fainter creaks, coming from the bed he's lying on. Good. He's doing what I want him to do._

"I'm getting wet because of the way you're looking at me. There's sheer, unbridled lust on your face. For a second I think you might throw yourself on top of me, and for a second I think I might let you. But there's sudden, sharp rap on the door, and a voice yells, "Five minutes." I push the hem of my dress down to cover myself, even though we both know what you saw. Without a word, you stand up, offering a hand to help me, and then I see. Oh, I _see._

Your dress pants are very well-cut, and they're form-fitting, and there's absolutely no missing what's going on. The front of them is being pushed out by a force of nature. Your _cock_. It's hard. It's twitching, pulsing, and you put your hand down there, adjusting yourself. You're frowning. You look almost angry. Your cock is throbbing and you don't have time to do anything about it. I wish I could help, Anthony, but you're due on stage. You're going to have to go out there with a hard-on. Have you got a hard-on right now, Anthony?"

"Yeah. Yes."

"Are you thinking about me being on the floor beneath you? My thighs spread apart so that you can see my underwear? Can you picture it?"

"Oh, Christ yes."

"I'm startled, Anthony. I'm staring at you, wide-eyed. You're a legend, and I'm in your dressing room, and you've got a very obvious erection, from seeing in between my legs. I lick my lips, Anthony, and I wish you didn't have to go right now. You're tenting your pants, and my panties are soaked through. What if you told the stage manager you're going to be late? I want you inside me."

_That sound, that faint, slapping sound. I love it. My hand strokes my belly, edging lower._

"Yeah, I'll tell him. I'll tell him twenty minutes, baby. Half an hour."

"Oh, Anthony - I wish you could, but you can't do that. Too many people have paid too much money. You have to fulfil your obligations. You pick up the towel that's been left on the countertop for you, holding it over your crotch, and you leave. But, Anthony, fuck, I'm in a state. I need to stay in there for a few minutes, to think about how your dick looked, making your pants jut out like that, and I need to stroke my fingers along my inner thighs to my wet core, to run then up and down my slit, to ease them inside myself until they're even slicker, and then do you know how I need to touch myself so that I'll come?"

"God, fuck! Tell me."

"Oh, I'll tell you. I'll give you so much detail you could do it to me in the dark, Anthony. You'll have me panting and breathless, if you follow my instructions. Are you good at taking instructions, Anthony? If it means you'll be able to make me so turned on I'll beg you for more? I'll suck your tongue and your cock and your balls and your nipples, I'll do anything, if only you'll touch me how I tell you to."

_He speeds up. The first two fingers of my right hand have found their way under the elastic of my panties._

"I'll do it. What - whatever you say."

"I'll tell you everything. Everything. But shit, just as you leave the venue manager is at the door, looking for me. I have to go back to the foyer. I'm pulsating, my nipples are hard, my clit is aching, and I can't even tell you about my pussy. It feels so empty. I have to stand there as though nothing's going on. I want to grope my own breasts and push them together. I want to feel your mouth on them, your tongue, your teeth. I want you to bite my tits, Anthony, and mark them. I clench my thighs, I'm so desperate for friction. I can't seem to settle the pace of my breathing. From a distance I can just hear the sound of a clarinet, and I'm fevered, knowing it's you. You're the one who's heated me up like this, but me getting the chance to fuck you is so unlikely it's next to impossible. The show is finishing, and I'm burning, looking up at one of the monitors in the foyer. It shows you in close up, Anthony, your skin glowing with perspiration, your eyes flaming, your hair damp and tossed, your lips swollen. That's how you look after you've performed, but that's how you'd look after I fucked you. Panting, disorientated. Anthony, that image of you is going into my spank bank. I have a spank bank, Anthony. You know what I mean by that?"

_He's spanking now. Oh, yes. So am I._"Jesus, yes, oh God."

"It's images and fantasies I think about when I'm feeling horny. And the star of my spank bank is you, Anthony. I'm going to beat off, jerk off, whack off, to mental images of you. You never fail to give me orgasms. I'm so fucking horny right now I think I could come standing there in the foyer looking at you on the screen. But my God - what if people need to speak to me, and I can't form words because I'm in the middle of a mind-bending climax? Just watching you, I'm clenching my muscles. My _inside_ muscles. If you were in me right now you'd feel me clamping down on you. Do you know what I mean, Anthony?"

_Panting._"Uh. Huh."

"But fuck, Anthony, fuck. The crowd are filing out through the foyer, and that means my work has finished. It's the end of my night. I could scream with frustration, but then an usher comes up to me with a message from the manager. He says I have to go to your room. I'm sure there's been a mistake, but he insists, and even escorts me there himself. You partially open the door, your face like thunder. You take hold of my wrist and pull me inside, and you slam the door, locking it. I'm confused, thinking I must be in some sort of trouble, but then you growl, "It's_ this_," looking down. I look down too, and there, in the front of your pants, is the huge bulge. "I've been like this for an hour," you say. "The whole time I was on stage. Thinking about your pussy. My dick has been throbbing, and it's starting to hurt. I need to do something about it. I need you. You don't have to touch me, and I won't touch you, unless you ask me to. But I want you to show me what I saw by accident before. That's all." Your face is all desperation and desire. It's electrifying. You're even a little worried too, Anthony, hoping I won't refuse you. Not a chance. I can't. Not if you're going to do what I think you're going to do. Not if you're going to take your dick out of your pants and pleasure yourself, looking at my pussy. Is that what you're going to do? Pleasure yourself? Watching me? Do you want me to watch you pleasure yourself, Anthony?"

"Fuck yeah,"_ he answers hoarsely._"I want to look at you, and see you look at me. I want to see your reaction to me."

"Oh, you will. You'll see it all right. You tell me to walk to your dressing table, and you stand behind me as I'm there in front of your mirror. You tell me to pull down the zipper of my dress. I obey you, and the fabric falls from my shoulders, bringing my chest into view - my breasts, their nipples pressed flat inside my bra. You sigh, frowning and biting your lip. My nipples start to pucker and your eyes widen. You ask if I'm cold. I'm not, I'm getting hotter by the minute. I'm starting to flush - pink is blooming where the heat of your gaze touches me. You're swallowing deeply and I'm so affected my breath hitches, making my breasts bounce a little. A soft moan escapes you and you curse. Your voice is low and so sexy when you growl the word fuck. Can you say fuck for me, Anthony?"

"Yes, Marie. Fuck. _Fuck_. If you think it's sexy I'll say it all the fucking time."

"I think it's sexy. It makes me want to jam my hand between my thighs. I need some pressure there, I need some relief. But I'm standing still as a statue while you stare at my reflection. I'm waiting for your next move. I can almost read your mind when your gaze drops to my waist, and below. Your voice goes hoarse as you order me to lift my dress. I gather the folds of it in my hand and pull them up, higher, over my thighs while you nod. Higher, over my hips. Your tongue moistens your lips as you nod again. You're not looking at my reflection, you're looking at me. I know my derriere is on show for you. Your eyes darken and I can just picture what you're seeing. The plump flesh there on display for you. More than a handful. Your eyes are so dark and heavy-lidded as they flicker up to mine. Do you like this view of me Anthony?"

"Yes. Fuck. I want to touch you."

"Touch me how?"

"I want to grab your ass in my hands and squeeze. I want - I want to caress you there and move my hands to your hips and hold you still so I can shove my dick against you." _Oh, his voice is heated. His words are heated._

"Your dick, Anthony? Your cock? You want to rub your cock between my ass cheeks?"

"Ooh, fuuck, yes."

"But you can't, Anthony. You promised. You said you'd only look."

"Unless you ask me to touch. Fuck, ask me, Marie. Ask me."

"I'm not going to ask you, Anthony. I know I want you, but I'm not sure what's going on here. Then so suddenly my head spins, you've turned me and lifted me, so that I'm on the counter. You find a chair and wheel it over, sitting yourself in front of me. You say, "May I?" and I don't know what you want, but you reach for my ankles and lift them, placing my heels on the arms of the chair. I'm splayed before you, trying to keep my knees together. "Shy?" you mutter. "Don't be. You're lovely. I won't try and fuck you, I'll stay right here in this chair, but open your legs for me. Spread them." The way you're trying to control your voice even though it's shaking is so sexy. You're clenching your jaw. Your eyes narrow. Fuck, I feel nervous, but you're mesmerizing, and I can't deny you. Slowly, I part my legs. Slowly. You're unmoving, eyes fixed as you watch me. I look down at myself, as I reveal what I am to you. I'm spread, parted, open, exposed. I'm not naked, but I might as well be. My dress is bunched up at my waist, my arms lightly caught by the shoulder straps, now around my elbows. I'm still in my underwear. But it's utterly transparent. You look glazed. Briefly, you glance up to my face, and you tell me, "You are so fucking beautiful - I can see everything," and then your hands are at your crotch. You're reaching for your zipper, and I can't wait. I can't wait, Anthony. You can see me, am I going to see you?"

"Oh, fuck, Maria - you want to see me? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am. Oh, Anthony, your zipper comes down, and your - your penis is so long that it's poking through the waistband of your boxers. Oh, my God. You pull the elastic band down, to show me the width of you, the thickness, the size, and I get a rush. It's wetness coming from my core at the very sight of you. Wetness just for you, to make it easy for you to get into me, to make it possible for a dick that big to ease inside me. All the way inside me." _I can picture the scene so clearly, this man sitting between my parted thighs, dishevelled and fuckhot, pulling out a dick so perfect its beauty rivals the Taj Mahal, making me erupt with molten lava._

"Oh, sweet Jesus, yes," _my caller gasps_.

"And then, Anthony, you start to stroke yourself. Your thumb and two fingers, sliding from your base to your tip, loosely and gently, while you look into my eyes, then very deliberately let your gaze run down my body. I'm scorched by the heat of it. And then you ask me, "Marie - do you know what you're doing to me?"

"I'm not doing anything," I tell you, and your hand starts to move a little faster.

"Marie, you are driving me wild. I can see your sweet lips. They're plump, they're juicy. I want to suck on them," you tell me, your breathing disturbed. "Will you let me?"

But I just want to keep looking at your dick so I shake my head.

Then you say, "Marie, I can see your inner lips. They're complicated and slippery and smooth, like a shell. I want to put my tongue on them. Will you let me?"

Oh, Jesus, Anthony, you're playing with me. Your dick is getting steadily harder and your grip on it is getting tighter. Your fingers and thumb have crept all the way around it. You're moving them faster.

I shake my head.

Now your voice is breaking up a little. "M-Marie, I can see your clit. It's tiny and perfect. I want to taste it and nibble it and bite it until you come in my mouth and on my face."

And when you say this you're so swollen and rigid and stiff and erect. I can't take my eyes off your dick. I've never seen anything I want more. I'm going to lick you like an icecream, Anthony, swirl my tongue all the way around you and savor you. I'm going to take you in my mouth and down my throat until you give it all up to me. I'm going to - "

"No!"_ he interrupts with a gasp_.

" - no?"

"Fuck, no, Marie. Fuck, no." _He's adamant. He's turning down a blow-job, even if it's an over the phone one. I'm bewildered._

"Anthony?" _I ask._

"I'm here baby. I'm right here. I know this is your story to tell, but there's something I want right now. I'm looking at your pussy, and I want to fuck you. Can you tell me about that? I - I'm nearly coming, Marie. I want to come fucking you."

_My God, this man is sexy!_ "You promised," _I remind him._

"Yes, I promised, and I won't touch you if you don't ask me to. But please, Marie. I'll be gentle, I'll be slow. Please ask me."

"You want full sex, Anthony? Penetration? You want to pull my panties to one side and push your dick inside of me? You want to watch your length moving in and out between my lips, your skin covered and glistening with the juice from my pussy? You want to hold me by the hips and pound me, with your balls slapping against me and your cock banging me harder and faster while I'm begging you for more and you're tensing all over, clenching, grunting because you're going to burst right open, come undone, spurt again and again until you've emptied yourself completely and your come is flowing out of me, running down my thighs - is that what you want me to ask you for?"

"Oh shit, oh shit, yes, keep going," _he moans. I can hear his impending orgasm. He's really close. I can hear the frantic speed of his hand on himself, the sounds in his throat that he's trying to keep quiet so he doesn't miss anything I say. I have to slow my own hand, because if I climax my train of thought will be affected and I don't want to ruin anything for him at a crucial moment._

"Anthony, the sight of your dick is sending me insane. I can't keep my hips still, sitting there on the counter. I'm tilting them, thrusting them, I'm in agony. I feel teased. Your hand stops moving on your dick and you ask me if I'm okay. I'm not okay. I tell you I'm not, and you start apologizing. You think you've upset me by being such a pervert. But that's not what's wrong, Anthony. What's wrong is that watching you is not enough. I want you closer, I want your body against mine. Skin to skin. I want to feel you. So I start to say all those things, and you push my feet down from your chair and stand up. You lift me off the counter and hold me by the hips as I stand, turning me so that I'm facing the mirror and you're behind me. Then you pull the zipper of my dress the rest of the way down so that my dress falls off completely. We're staring into each other's eyes, and you step a little closer. Oh. Your arms don't come into contact, or your chest, but there's a part of you that's definitely touching me Anthony. Between the cheeks of my backside, your dick feels like a rod of granite and you rub it against me while your breath huffs on my neck. Even though I'm wearing my high heels you're still a lot taller, and you lean over me, hands on the counter top on either side of me with your hard-on prodding at my ass. I raise myself and push backwards, getting your dick to slide between my thighs, and you moan. It's the hottest thing I've ever heard. You start moving, sliding your dick along me, and I don't know if you're going to let me have it or not. I'm staring at you in the mirror, your eyes are almost closed and your jaw is slack, you look like you're in the middle of a fuck, like you're surrendering to pure sensation, pure pleasure. You're making me feel good, Anthony, really good, but you're holding back. Give it to me. Have me. Take me. Fuck me."

_He moans._"Yes, yeah - oh yes."

"You've got your dick in your hand as you find the way in, Anthony, and I'm leaning forward to help you with the angle. I know you find me tight because I feel so fucking stretched by you. You enter me so slowly I feel every inch, and it's exquisite. I'm not going to last long, you're going to make me shatter into pieces. Your dick fits me perfectly as if I was made for you. I'm already whimpering with pleasure, we're both already out of breath and we haven't even started. You get further into me than anybody has ever been. So deep. And when you pull yourself out again, the sensation makes my legs weak. Your cock is so powerful, so strong, so hard sliding inside me. I feel you everywhere. I feel your belly against my back. I feel your thighs against mine. Your arms are along the outside of my arms and your hands are over my hands on the countertop. You're all around me, covering me, your body so hot and big and hard - and I really need you to start fucking me now. Properly. Will you do that Anthony?"

_He's on the home straight. I can tell by the way it takes him a second to answer. He has to swallow, he has to catch his breath._

"You're - you're asking me to fuck you?" _he growls._

"Jesus, yes. Can't you feel how much I want you? Can't you feel the way I'm arching my back, shamelessly grinding against you, spreading my legs to take you in even deeper? You can see my mouth panting for your heavy dick. We're both so close, Anthony, so turned on by watching each other. Your eyes are only half-open, you're biting your lip, you're trying to make this last for longer, but every time you pound into me brings me spiraling closer to ecstasy. It's the same for you. We're groaning and panting in perfect time together. And then suddenly you reach in front of me with one hand and tear the cup of my bra down from underneath my breast. You do the same with the other side of my bra. The next time you thrust, your eyes are wide open as my breasts bounce and wobble. You're pushing harder and faster, eyes glued to my chest, and every breath you take is exhaled with a curse. You're getting off on my tits, aren't you Anthony? On banging me so hard they're bouncing in time with your thrusting?"

_He doesn't answer. I wonder if I've done it, if he's there. I wonder if he'll change his rhythm when he comes, if he'll stroke and coax the stream out of himself, if it will spurt a foot in the air or gush like a waterfall over his hand. Thinking of this is enough to finish me._

"Fuck, Anthony, I can't hold on. I'm coming," _I gasp._

"In your fantasy?" _I hear him mutter._

"No. Right - _n-now_."

"Oh, Jesus, your timing. So am I. Oh - fuck, fuck, _yeah_ - "

_It's really strong, the contractions wrack me, and the shudders afterwards seem to last and last. We're both quiet for some time, coming down. I don't know what to say to him. I wasn't expecting a simultaneous orgasm._

"I suppose you're going to hang up on me now?" _he says after a while_. "No basking in the post-coital glow?"

"That's not really the way this arrangement works," _I tell him._

"Shame," _he says._"But at least I don't have to go to the bathroom and deal with the condom."

"No, you don't," _I agree._"So, Anthony, thanks for your call."

"Sure. Anytime," _he answers, but I can tell he has something more to say_. "Marie, was that real? You weren't pretending about it, just to make me feel good?"

"It was real," _I state._"Thank you."

"Oh, fuck. Thank _you._"

_He hasn't hung up yet when I press end call_.


	3. The Career Woman

**Press "end call" 3**

_Even though I'm right next to the phone and I recognise the number flashing up, I don't answer until the tenth ring._

"Hello."

"Marie?"

"This is Marie."

"Whoa. For a moment there I thought you wouldn't pick up."

"I've picked up."

"Yeah. Good. I was worried maybe you weren't around."

"I'm around."

"I'm glad."

_I pause._ "Who am I speaking to?"

_There's a chuckle. It's a really nice sound._

"I think you know perfectly well who you're speaking to," _he chides gently._

_I do know. I toy with the idea of pretending that I don't for about a split second, but I can't go through with it._ "Anthony."

"Yeah, it's me."

"And it's me. What would you have done if I didn't answer the call?"

"I'd try again later."

"Well, I'm pleased that you want to talk to me enough to persevere if I don't answer straightaway. The thing is, you're lucky you caught me just now. I'm very busy," _I tell him._

"At this time of night?"

"Oh, Anthony, I'm a career woman. I'm busy at all times. Empire-building doesn't happen if you sit around doing nothing, you know."

"You're empire-building?"

"Always. Let me tell you about myself."

"Oh. Yes, tell me." _Here we go, Mr Pseudonym-bearer. I hope you're sitting down_.

"I work very, very hard, Anthony. I get up early, and I stay up late. Meetings, messages, reports, appointments, letters - these are all things I have to deal with. And I manage staff. I carry out inspections. I evaluate. When I'm not performing all these executive functions I'm thinking of what I want to achieve and how I'm going to achieve it. I come up with an idea, I decide on my desired outcome, and I implement whatever action is necessary to make that outcome happen. I'm very sure of what I want, Anthony, and I always get it. Actually, that's not quite accurate. There's one thing I want - a _lot_ - that I don't get. And that's sex."

_A pause_. " Ah - why don't you get sex?"

"No-one I meet is attractive enough, Anthony. None of the men I meet through work appeal to me. And I'm really not interested in dating. I don't want dinners and theatre visits and romance and best behavior. I want hot, sweaty, dirty sex with someone who's not going to buy me birthday presents or meet my parents. No cards and flowers, Anthony, I just want to be fucked hard seven ways from Sunday. Do you think that's too much to ask of a guy?"

"No. Shit, no."

"So what am I going to do about it? I'll tell you what. I've found a website that people register on, where women explain exactly what they want, sexually. Men post photos of themselves. The women pick a man they're interested in, and the man reads the list of requirements. Then if both parties agree, it's game on. So, Anthony, I need to create my personal profile. I'm already in the mood. Earlier tonight, when I got home from work, I turned all the lights off in my apartment. It was really hot today, and the air was still so warm. I'd taken my jacket off, but that hadn't been enough, so I'd undone the buttons of my blouse. It still wasn't enough. There was no breeze anywhere. I went to my freezer and opened the icebox. Cool air gushed out and it was heavenly, but I needed more relief from the heat, so I took the icetray out. Now, my clothes are expensive, Anthony, and they're dryclean only. I had an ice-cube in my fingers, holding it to my throat so that the slowly melting ice started to trickle over my chest, but I couldn't risk any damage to my skirt. I reached behind me with one hand to undo the zip and had to writhe to peel the skirt down from my hips. There was only the light from the open fridge to illuminate me as I stood there in bra and panties and high heeled shoes with the trail of melted ice running down over my abdomen and into the lace of my panties. I got more ice and rubbed across my collarbones with it, letting the cool flow run over my breasts. It felt really good, really good, and it made me think of something that might cool me down a little more. I took another ice cube, and this time Anthony, I rubbed it straight onto my nipple, over my bra. The fabric went transparent, and as I watched, I saw my nipple go completely erect. I even got tiny little bumps in the aureole, the sensation of the ice had been so shocking. And fuck, Anthony, I really liked how my nipple looked, so hard like that, straining through the lace. I wanted to see it better, so I went into my bedroom where I have a full-length mirror, and I looked at myself. I watched as I rubbed what was left of the ice over the other nipple and it got hard as well. My blinds were open enough for streetlight to come in from outside, and I could see myself in planes and curves and valleys of orange light and dark shadows, my leg muscles taut because of my shoes, my bra damp, my belly and panties streaked with moisture. My hair and makeup were still perfect. From the chin up I looked like a successful career woman. From the chin down I looked like a stripper. Can you picture that, Anthony?"

"Yea - yeah."

_Oh, good. Good. I can hear him picturing it._

"So I was starting to feel a little wild then, Anthony. I couldn't wait to get online and start browsing the photos on the website. It's definitely NSFW. From the preliminary look I had, I could see that the men's photos are naked. And not just naked, Anthony. They're _dick _shots. Oh, yeah. Soft cocks, semis, and full boners. There's not much I like more than looking at cocks, and that site was going to make me very, very happy. I didn't know how I was going to be able choose someone, but I was sure planning to enjoy myself during the selection process. I sat down in front of my laptop and put my ipod in the dock, dialling up Tricky, because it's the most fucked-up sex music I know, and I logged on. I took a picture of myself with the laptop camera, sitting there in shadows and underwear, thighs spread, nipples hard, skin gleaming, long strands of hair breaking away and curling down over my shoulders, sweat mingling with the water that was dripping on me, eyes hazy and mouth half-open, already fucking turned on from the dirty music and from my own anticipation. I knew I was going to pick someone tonight, Anthony, because I really, really needed to fuck. I just had to choose one of those beautiful cocks, and then say exactly what I wanted. And I could message the guy whose cock it was to get right over to me and fuck me. So I started to scroll. Are you familiar with the story of Goldilocks, Anthony?"

_Quiet. Then a puzzled, _"Ah - Goldilocks?"

"You know, the girl who needed things to be just right? I'm looking through the pictures, and the first one's too skinny, the second one's too bent, the next one's one's too short - and I flick past about a dozen of them, barely pausing. None of them are right. And then suddenly, there is a photo of the _perfect _cock. The one I want. It's so _thick_, oh fuck, I feel instant wetness between my legs. There's a picture of it soft, and I start to salivate. I bite my lip. My heart rate speeds up. Jesus, that cock _does_ it for me even when it's flaccid. Then it's shown lengthened, curving to the side a little, getting even fatter. The last picture has it fully erect, and that cock, _hard_, is the fucking best thing I've ever seen. I'm just about on my knees with longing. My fingers are inside my panties before I even know it. The name on the profile is Anthony. Whoever he is, Jesus, he's got to give that to me. He's fucking _got_ to. But I need to get busy now. I need to type out what I want, and I need to do it fast, because I'm so fucking horny for that tantalizing cock. I'm fucking trembling with impatience and anticipation. Do you reckon the Anthony who has that cock will want to fuck me with it?"

"Oh, fuck yeah. I reckon he will," _he says_.

"Good. So now I have to think - what do I want? What do I need? Well, Anthony - and I think we've established it's you, haven't we? - this is what I'm going to write on my page. I like a lot of attention paid to my tits. I want you nibbling and nuzzling on the flesh of them, and then flicking your hot tongue all around my nipples teasing me until I'm ready to take a breast in one hand and take your head in the other and push my nipple right in your mouth. Then I want you to suck, not too hard, but insistently. It goes straight to my clit, like an electrical current. It makes me moan, I just can't help myself. But sucking's not all I like, Anthony. Once you've got my nipples wet and swollen and aching, there's one thing you can do to my tits that's better than anything else. Do you want to know what that is?"

"Christ. What is it? Tell me, I'll do it."

"Well, in a minute, Anthony. Maybe I should talk about something else that I want. I want to watch you touch yourself. I don't just mean your dick, Anthony, although you'd certainly _better_ touch your dick. But first I want to see you slide your hand up inside your shirt and stroke your chest. I want to see your fingertips wandering over your nipples. I want you to run your other hand over the outside of your thigh, and back up over the inside until you reach your crotch and then cup yourself there, through your pants. Your fingers feel your dick, which isn't even hard yet. Your other hand moves to your belly and traces circles there. Oh, fuck, you even start to explore your own happy trail, following the line of hair down to your belt buckle. I want to see your eyes closed and see you so lost in touching yourself softly like this that you lose all self-consciousness. You forget I'm even there. You're going to unbutton your shirt and pull the fabric aside, keeping one hand lightly on your dick while you stroke up and down your abdomen, touching your hot skin, touching your chest, and Jesus, Anthony, Jesus. I want you to spread your hand out and play with one nipple with your thumb, and the other nipple with your fingertip. And I want you to _enjoy _it_._ Both your nipples at the same time, with one hand. Oh, fuck, _I'm_ fucking going to enjoy it. I want to watch your cock get hard under your other hand, even though you're not rubbing yourself there. You're so fucking sensitive and responsive that you're getting turned on without having to pump your cock. I can see my reflection on the screen as I'm typing this, and there's a sheen of perspiration on my skin. My breasts are moving as I start to breathe heavily. I'm writing that I want to see a guy turning himself on to turn me on. Do you think a man would do that for me, Anthony? Something so intimate as letting me watch him turn himself on?"

"Fuck._ I _would, Marie. I would."

"Are you turning yourself on right now?"

"Yes."

"Fuck, I want to see that. Are you wearing a shirt, Anthony? Is it open? Can you see your nipples? Do they go hard when you're aroused? Are they hard right now?"

"Fuck yeah, they are. I'm _very_ aroused, Marie."

"Good, Anthony, because fuck, so am I. And I'm ready to talk about the next thing I want. I've got to get all this down in words, Anthony. I've still got the dirty, sexy music on. What I'm typing is that I'm going to lie back on my bed, and I want you to pull your pants down _fast_. Your underwear too. You're in a fucking hurry, Anthony. I want you to kneel across me, your cock in your hand. And I want you to _order _me to push my tits together. Oh, fuck, that's what I fucking want. I want you to have one hand on the headboard, and the other tight around the base of your cock, grasping yourself really hard, and I want you to lean over me so you can rub the head of your beautiful cock on my tits, coating them in precum, making them even more slippery than my sweat has already made them, and then I want you to push your cock into the narrow space I've created between them. _That's_ how I want you to fuck me. Do you want to do that, Anthony?"

_I hear the moist slap as he beats off, and the groan in his voice._ "Oh, _fuck yeah_. I want to fuck your tits. It's so good."

"It feels good to me too, Anthony. And fuck it looks good. Can you see? Can you see yourself tit-fucking me?"

_No answer. The panting tells me everything I need to know._

"But Anthony, there's a part of me that's going to feel neglected. There's a part of me that's going to fucking _ache._ I haven't finished writing my fantasy list on my profile yet, and there's plenty more that I want, believe me. Right now I'm sitting at my desk with my legs apart and I'm looking at the pictures of your dick, and I've my hands full of my own tits, but I need your big hard cock somewhere else. I've got to get my hands off myself long enough to keep typing. I've already soaked my panties, and I haven't even gotten to telling you that I want your cock between my legs. You're going to need to pull down my underwear first, and you're going to need to take it all the way off so I can get my legs far enough apart for you. Then I want you between my lips. Not my mouth, Anthony. My _other _lips. They're swollen, I'm touching them right now and I can tell you that for sure. They're really soft, and they're waiting. All of me is waiting, but especially that part of me. I need you to hold your cock and put your head there softly, parting my lips and opening me just for you. You'll find me so wet and ready, Anthony, and so hot. All you need to do is rub your cock up and down my slit. I'm going to love it. I'll probably start begging you to slip inside me, but Anthony - _don't_. No matter how much I moan. No matter how much I plead. Just keep sliding your luscious cock from my clit down to the opening of my pussy and back up again, over and over. Just keep going. Can you do that for me Anthony?"

"Uh - ."

"Please. Please. Say you will."

"Christ. I will."

"You'll be strong, Anthony? You won't give in? I warn you, I'll be moving my hips everywhere, trying to get you inside me. I'll be grabbing your ass trying to pull you in. I'll be grabbing your dick and arching my back and writhing, trying to make you fuck me. You've got to promise not to."

"Ah - fuck. How will I know? How will I know if I'm doing the right thing?" _he asks, voice sounding strained._

"Oh, you'll know, Anthony. If you can keep rubbing my clit with your cock for long enough, I'll come. I'll fall apart. I'll be crying out and losing my mind, and if you time it right and get inside me _right_ then, I'll clench all over you. You'll feel it. My whole body will shake and you'll feel the spasms inside me, and I'll be gripping you so fucking tightly - and then, Anthony, _then_ we can really start to fuck."

"My God. I'm nearly finished and - we haven't started?"

"No, we haven't Anthony, but you know what? I'm sitting here in my apartment in front of my laptop and I can't stand it any longer. My fingers are no substitute for what I really want. Your glorious, magnificent cock. I'm going to have to send you a message. Fuck, I hope you're not too far away from your computer. Fuck, I hope you log on soon. I really don't want to have to wait Anthony. I'm ready right now. And even as I'm clicking on to the contact button, an icon lights up on your profile. You're online. My God. My fingers are slippery with my own moisture but I manage to type out that I'm looking at your picture. Your answer is immediate - you say you're reading about me. A second later another response comes through - you say if I've seen you it's only fair that you see me. So Anthony I send the picture that I took - the one where I'm leaning back in my chair, legs open and inviting, skin glistening with perspiration, face partly shadowed but with just enough light to show that I'm licking my lips. Do you like my picture, Anthony?"

"Jesus. Yes, I do. I wish I could see it right now."

"Well, Anthony, along with the picture, I've sent an invitation to meet. Your location is in your details so I know you're in the same city as me. I suggest a bar I know. I don't have long to wait for your reply online. You ask how recent the photo is. I tell you I took it five minutes ago. You say you'll be at the bar in twenty minutes, and then Anthony, you add a ps that has me quivering. You say, "Don't shower." _Fuck_. I can't fucking wait to get to you. The bar has a hotel upstairs and I call them and book a room, and then I throw a shirt-dress on, straight over my damp underwear without showering, just as you directed. Are you familiar with shirt-dresses, Anthony?"

"No."

"Well, they're like a shirt, but dress length. They have buttons all the way down the front. Easy access, Anthony, _very_ easy. Mine's rather short - you'd barely call it a dress, really. It doesn't come much further down than my ass. It's pretty immodest, but I'm not going to waste time changing. I don't even do up the buttons properly in my haste. It's not until I'm walking in to the bar that I realise I'm exposing quite a lot of flesh. I'm glad it's dark in there. I'm looking around, wondering if I've arrived before you when a man rises from a the table in the corner and walks towards me. He's tall, he's broad-shouldered, he's fucking hot, and he takes me by the elbow. It's you. God, I couldn't see your face properly in your photos, Anthony, but you're spectacular. You're rugged, unshaven, and I'm going to fuck you right here in this bar even if I get arrested. We get to the table and you order a drink from the waiter, but I barely even hear what you've said. I'm crossing my legs so that my hem slides right up my thigh, and you're looking. I lean towards you, pushing my tits together with my upper arms, creating cleavage, and you're looking. When the waiter brings our drinks I scoop an ice cube straight out of my glass, hold it between my teeth, and press my face to your neck. Your skin's already heated and the ice doesn't last long. With my tongue I follow the trail where the ice has melted until your shirt's in the way, then I just undo buttons and keep licking. My hands are on your thighs by now as my tongue's at your chest. You're already breathing fast. You probably didn't think I'd come on this strong, did you, Anthony? You shouldn't have turned up looking so fucking _edible_. Because, fuck, you're asking to be _eaten_. And I've got an appetite. I get another ice cube, and I rub this one over your nipple, and this time I'm unbuttoning _my_ shirt. But not from the top, Anthony. No. I'm unbuttoning it from the _hem_. I hand you some ice, and I wriggle forward in my seat, uncrossing my legs. I'm very, very hot, Anthony, and I need some cooling down. Will you help me out?"

"Jesus, Marie - we're in a bar? How dark is it? I - I want to watch what you're doing to me, and what you want me to do to you."

_He's going at it. I love the sound of him working himself. God, I want to ask him to dial me up on skype so I can see him, but that's not how it's going to play out for us here._

"Oh, I don't think I'm going to let you see anything much right now, Anthony. I want you to _feel_. Why don't run that ice along the elastic of my panties? Are your fingers cold now? Why don't you touch me, over the fabric there? Do a little exploring? I bet my clit's really swollen, Anthony. I wonder if you can find it, in the dark. If you rub me in the right place you might just be able to feel it. Or you'll be able to tell from my reaction whether you're in the right place or not. You'll make me gasp. You'll make my mouth open and my eyes close. Oh, fuck, you'll make me feel good. But Anthony, why don't you slip your fingers _inside_ my underwear? You'll definitely find my clit then, God, it'll be so soft and wet, nestled there between my lips just waiting for your hand. I want you to stroke me really gently, tracing circles around me, smooth and light. You'll drive me crazy, you'll make me come, right here in this bar. You'll have to pull my face into your shoulder to muffle the sounds I'll make. Do you want to hear me come?"

"Fuck, Jesus Christ. Yes, I do. I'm going to make you come, right in the bar, with people all around."

"Oh fuck, Anthony, I don't know if I'm going to let you do that, you know why? It's because of your dick, Anthony. Your cock. Your stunning, fucktastic, glistening, huge, thick, hard cock. If I'm going to come, Anthony, and I'm goddamn sure that I am, I want something to be clenching on. I want something to be pumping in and out of me. I want to feel your skin against mine, your hot breath panting onto me, your hands gripping my hips so that you can push harder and harder, your cock driving into me _fast _and making me lose my self control - that's what I'm here for tonight, Anthony. What about you?"

_He likes what I'm saying. Likes the sound of it, the thought of it, the fantasy of it. I can hear him._

"Oh, God, anything. I'll finger you, I'll fuck you. I want to make you come. You've got to let me. You keep making me stop! Stop making me stop, Marie." _He's almost growling. I've been biting my lip, tongue restless, long middle finger sliding vertically forward and back, up and down in the cleft, steering away from my clit, because I know once I go there I'm not going to last._

"We'd better get upstairs to the room I booked then, Anthony. You throw money on the table because we can't wait for the check. You reach over and set my dress straight, because otherwise I'll be walking through the bar looking like - looking like a woman who's just had a man's hands inside her underwear, and who's flushed and pre-orgasmic. We get in the elevator, and as soon the door slides shut you've got me rammed against the wall, your hard dick pressed to my belly and thrusting. You're so fucking turned on, Anthony, from touching me in the bar. Your dick is like fucking steel. Your hands are at the sides of my tits but you're pressed so close against me that you can't even grope me properly. Your hips are doing amazing things to me, but my _belly_ isn't where I want to feel you. You need to get your cock further south, and you need to do it soon, Anthony. I can't fucking wait any longer, and neither can you. I raise my thigh and wrap it around your hip, but we're at the right floor by then, and the door opens. I couldn't care less if anyone sees us, I'm too fucking hot for you, and the surveillance cameras will have picked us up already, but Anthony, I don't think you want any more fully clothed grinding, do you? You grab me by the ass and pull me all the way against you, into your arms, and you stumble backwards out of the lift, your mouth at my ear as you ask for the room number. I don't know how we make it there. I don't know how you get the key from me and get it in the door when my legs are so tight around you and my pussy is pressed into your abdomen. I can feel your cock below, pushing up against my ass, and it's so _insistent_, so _urgent, _so fucking _demanding_. We're seconds away from penetration, Anthony, and I swear I'll come in a fucking torrent as soon as you're in me. I hope you've got stamina so you can keep fucking me, because one orgasm just isn't going to be enough. You're going to give me more than that, aren't you, Anthony?"

_From the sounds I can hear now, the slapping and wetness, the soft, rapid thumping when his fist hits his pubic bone on the downstroke, I don't know how long I've got. He's moaning very gently. I wish I could see him. I wish he really did have a page with graphic pictures of his dick posted up there, so I could see what I'm beating off to._

"I'm going to give you - everything," _he pants_. "I'm going to last for you as long as you need me to. I'm going to fill you up with my cock, any way you want. Just - tell me."

"Oh, Anthony - Anthony," _I'm moaning. The sound of his voice like this, so needy, so close, is making me wetter_. "Oh, fuck, we're barely inside the room when you let me go, and I slump against the wall. Your hands have gone straight to your belt, and you undo it, nearly ripping your jeans apart in your haste. Fuck, I'm in as much of a hurry as you are. I yank my dress up to my waist and pull my panties down, all the time keeping my eyes fixed on you. Because I know what I'm about to see. And Jesus, I - oh fuck, Anthony, oh _fuck_. You're wriggling out of your jeans but you're still wearing boxer shorts, and I can see the contours of your dick, so fucking _hard_, ready to burst out. Jesus! My hand whips to my clit. Show me your cock, Anthony. I have to see it. I'm going to come. My fingers are frantic on my clit, circling. Please, Anthony, please!"

_I _am_ frantic. I _am_ going to come. This isn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to maintain my self-control until my caller climaxes, but I'm imagining his perfect cock and I wish so fucking much that I could actually see it, could touch it, could have it inside me, that I'm right on the edge._

_I can't stop. I'm about to finish myself when he speaks roughly._

"Marie, move your hand. That's my job. I want to fuck you, I want to fuck your tits, I want to do everything that you've asked for, but Jesus, take your hand away. Let me take care of that. I know what you need. I've got you, baby. I'm touching you, can you feel it? I've got my cock out now and it's throbbing for you. Lie down, baby. Open your legs. Remember what you asked me for? This is my cock, Marie, on your clit. You feel beautiful there. So lovely. Can you feel me? I'm going to come Marie, but you're first. You're really smooth and wet, I'm gliding, I can fucking feel you like satin, so warm - shit, shit, oh God - "

_And he's done. I screw my eyes shut tight, hearing him come, imagining the hot jets from inside of him spurting out with every sweep of his hand over his length, I feel the splatter of them on my skin, and I'm done, too, moaning and coming. Rings and rings of pleasure radiate from the epicentre that's my clit._

"Well - " _he says presently, breath still disrupted_. "That was pretty powerful for me. How about you?"

"Yeah. Powerful," _I agree shakily._ "There I am asking about your stamina and I don't have any myself."

"Understandable. You saw my penis."

_His remark gets a laugh from me, and he laughs in response._

"I like our conversations," _he says._

"So do I," _I reply._

"Are you going to let me bask in the afterglow with you, or are you going to hang up now?"

"Sorry, afterglow goes against protocol."

"Protocol be damned."

_I make my voice business-like._ "Actually, I have things I need to be getting on with. But thanks for your call, Anthony. It was nice to hear from you."

_He sighs_. "Protocol it is, then. Can we have a date for tomorrow night? Same time?"

_Oh, you _bet,_ Anthony_. "I don't see why not. Dial my number."

"Oh, I will. Sweet dreams, Marie."

"You too, Anthony."

_And I hesitate, because I kind of want to share the afterglow. But, no. Terms and conditions apply to these conversations. I press end call._


	4. The Dancer

**Press "end call" 4**

_He's late. The minutes tick by. Maybe he won't call tonight. Maybe my watch is wrong. But the clock on the wall agrees with my watch. He's late._

_When the phone does ring I jump. I take deep breaths, I count. One, two, three, four - and pick up._

"Hello?"

_A cough, a throat being cleared._ "Hey there."

"Hey there."

_There's a tone in his voice that's different. For one thing, I can tell he's smiling._

"Here I am again, your nightly caller. Anthony."

"Nice to hear from you."

"Nice to _hear_ you. I wonder what we're going to talk about."

"Do you really?" _There's a smile in my voice, too_. "We could discuss the weather."

"Marie, I would love to have a conversation with you about the weather. Why don't you tell me what it's like where you are right now? Are you cold? Are you warm? What are you wearing?" _he says, and I suspect he's been drinking. That's what the difference is tonight. He's slurring, and he sounds deeper, lazier, slower. Sexier._

"It's interesting that you should ask about my attire, actually, because tonight I'm wearing my favorite dress. It's a very rich, deep green and it's fitted, hugging my body perfectly. It's asymmetrical, Anthony, and the fabric of the bodice clasps on one shoulder with a decorative clip. To complete the asymmetry, the hem on one side falls almost to my ankle. On the other side - well, let's just say, it's shorter. Above the knee. To be honest, on one side, this dress leaves most of my thigh bare, so with this dress I always wear a thong. The one I'm wearing tonight is so tiny it's no more than a whisper of black lace, and it matches the tight strapless bustier I've got on. It probably looks as though I've got no underwear on at all - other than my thigh-high stockings, of course. They're black and sheer, and they make my legs look really long. I'm wearing black pumps with wicked-looking five-inch heels and ankle straps - they make my legs look long as well, Anthony. Do you like the sound of my outfit?"

"Christ. Yes. I do," _he murmurs_. "Tell me about your hair."

_Oh?_

"I have long hair, Anthony, dark brown and wavy and very thick. I've pinned it up tonight in a style that looks a little messy and carefree, but keeps it off my face. As soon as I've finished applying my makeup, I'll be ready to go."

"You're putting on make-up? Where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm putting on a _lot_ of make-up. I'm wearing very heavy smoky black eyeshadow with wings extending from the outer corners of my eyes. My face is pale, and my lips are deep red. I've applied lipstick outside their natural line to make them look bigger. Did you know about that trick women use Anthony? And do you know what it is about red lipstick that's sexy? I'll tell you. When a woman is sexually aroused, her lips swell slightly, and their color changes. They become plump and flushed, Anthony. Just like certain other places elsewhere on her body when she's turned on. Like her _nipples_. Like her _labia_. Like her _clit._ A woman's mouth is a clear indicator of her level of excitement, Anthony, and I like to wear a rich, pinkish red color that not only makes me look receptive, it makes me look like I'm about to come. Most men wouldn't realize that on a conscious level, but unconsciously they feel it. And if you're wondering where I'm going, looking like I'm sexually receptive and I want to fuck and I want to come - the answer is, I'm on my way to work."

"Work?" _  
_

"Oh yes, Anthony. This is how I dress for my job. I need to look very, very glamorous. And very sexy."

"What do you do?"

"I work in a club. A certain type of club. Most of the staff are girls, and all the clients are men. The girls are dancers, and as well as performing on stage, they give one-on-one performances for customers if requested, which may or may not involve the removal of clothes. It may or may not involve close bodily contact. I'll tell you what it doesn't involve though - the men are not permitted to touch the women. Whatsoever. Each girl has her own personal security guard, and if a client puts so much as one finger on the girl who is dancing for him, he'll be removed from the premises. The rules are very clear and they're not negotiable. Have you ever been to that sort of club, Anthony?"

"No, I haven't."

"Would you like to visit one?"

"If you were going to dance for me, yes."

"Oh, Anthony - _I_ don't dance. I'm a hostess. I greet clients and I set up introductions with the girls they express an interest in. Then I keep a general eye on proceedings to make sure everything's running smoothly. I move from table to table where the patrons are seated and I help out with conversations if people are shy. My main role is to ensure that everybody enjoys their evening. When that happens, I'm happy. But you know what, Anthony? I've got a feeling tonight's going to be a little different."

"Uh-huh?"

"Yes. Because tonight, Anthony, a group of four men come in and I take them to a table and nod to a bunch of my girls to come over and be sociable. Three of the men are checking the girls out the way men who come here always do, but one of them isn't. One of them looks like this isn't the sort of place he'd normally frequent. And that man is you, Anthony. When you told those guys you met at the seminar that you'd go out for a drink with them, this wasn't what you had in mind, was it? I can see it in your posture, in the way you respond to the girl who's come to sit with you. You're not leaning in close and you're not giving her fake smiles. You're not throwing champagne from the complimentary first bottle down your throat like you want to be drunk within five minutes and proposition the girl next to you to take you to a private cubicle. But there's something else that's different about you, Anthony. Most of the guys who come in here are ordinary, everyday men. But - but you're not. There is _nothing _ordinary about you. You are fucking hot, you're so hot that nearly every woman in the club is hovering over your table because they want to get your attention. They want to be the one you choose. Fuck - they just want you to smile at them. You're tall, you're fit, you're built - those colleagues you've come in here with are getting really fucking nervous that they won't get any action because it's so obvious all the girls are looking at you. But you're not looking at them, Anthony. Why? Girls are licking their lips, they're flicking their hair, they're even going so far as to touch themselves suggestively right in front of you. But you're not taking any notice of any of them. You're looking at the one woman in the club who's not on offer. Me. But you can't have me Anthony. I can't help it if I'm curved like a rollercoaster, and my breasts are creamy and plush, and my skin is like satin. I can't help it if my lips feel suddenly dry and my tongue slips out to flicker over them right when I catch your eye. I'm not available, Anthony."

"Jesus - why the fuck not?" _I faintly hear his breath hitch_._  
_

"Because I have to stay in control. I can't go getting excited over some guy and grinding on him on the dance floor. I can't take him away somewhere secluded and give him a private striptease, slow and sexy, designed to torment him to the brink of his self-control. I can't push him into a chair and straddle his thighs and push my tits in his face and feel his erection rubbing against my wet pussy until we're both moaning with pleasure and impatience, and I'm panting the name he's given me, until I beg for his real name, and I let go and shudder and shake, coming all over his hard-on, and still cresting when he comes too. I can't do that, Anthony."

"Why not?" _he asks again, almost croaking._

"Because my job is to be responsible, I have to look after people. And as well as that, the truth is, I've never seen anyone attractive enough. The girls are well-paid here, but it's not about money for me, Anthony. It's about desire. There has never been a man walk through the door of this club that I've felt desire for. Until tonight. And I'm fighting it. You've asked me to have a drink with you. I can't be rude to a client, so I drink. You offer me another. I can't stop staring at your lips, at your throat. You look so fucking strong. You're big, you're a big man. Such long, long fingers. Oh, God, I imagine those fingers on me, touching me, stroking me. I imagine you finding my secret places, opening me, making me ready for something that's even bigger than those fingers. My brain really needs to shut up, because those thoughts are sending sensations straight to my pussy, and I have to press my thighs together to ease the sudden throb there. It doesn't work though. There I am, sitting with you at a table, trying to be composed while I feel like I'm pulsating with want. Do you know what I do? I drop one hand into my lap, where no-one can see. And I told you the hem of my dress is really, really short on one side, didn't I? It's easy for me to slip my fingers under the fabric of the dress and slide them into my panties, using my middle finger to stroke where my lips have started to part because I'm already turned on. I'm using a featherlight touch on my clit, Anthony, and I'm talking to you politely, while I _masturbate_. You think I'm listening to you, and I am, but I'm touching myself at the same time. It's pretty dirty of me, to fondle myself while we make small talk, but I don't care. I'm driven to it. If you're going to come in here and be the sexiest man I've ever seen, and if I'm going to have to sit here right in front of your body and your hands and your mouth - well, my clit is going to need some attention. And shit, Anthony, it's not like I can forget that your _dick_ is only about two feet away from me. I fucking wish I could see it and touch it. You're exciting me and you're not even aware of it. I suddenly think I can't carry on acting like such a perv, and I reach up with both hands to drink from the glass in front of me. I don't know what the hell's in it because I've just been focusing on your mouth and rubbing myself as if nothing else exists. Well, sometime in the last little while someone must have ordered cocktails and the glass I pick up contains something very sweet and full of cream. It's so unexpected I cough a little. My hands are clasped around this long, narrow glass, holding it to my lips, and cream drips from my mouth as I look up at you. And God, Anthony - the look on your face. What are you thinking? Whatever it is, I don't have time to interpret your expression as cream runs down my chin and I put my tongue out to lick it off. I know I've missed some because I feel it dribble onto my chest and I put the glass down hurriedly and use one hand to pull the front of my dress down and away. I don't want it to get stained. I use the fingers of the other hand to collect the drips of cream and I suck them into my mouth, savoring the sweetness. When I look back to you your eyes are fixed on my chest, then move to my mouth. Our conversation seems to have stopped. And Anthony - I've got the female equivalent of blue balls. I'm in a mild state of agony here. Fuck, Anthony, at least tell me this is doing something to you. Tell me about your dick. Is it soft? Is it swollen and rigid? Anthony, you've never told me about your dick."

_There's a moment's hesitation, but I can hear his breathing. From the sound of it I know his mouth is open. Good._

"My dick is hard right now," _he says_.

"Fully? Tell me. I want to picture it. I'm thinking about it."

"I - I don't know if you mean in the story or in reality. But in reality, it's hard."

"Oh, fuck. Are you touching it? You've got to touch it, Anthony. Are you wearing pants or pajamas? Or just your underwear? Or are you naked? I hope you're still fully clothed, Anthony, because I love the look of an erection through jeans. In my story you're wearing jeans, and I want you to push your chair back and stand up. I want to see what your dick's doing. I want to know if I can see the shape of your head through the denim. Fuck, I'm salivating just with that image in my mind."

"That excites you?" _he asks_.

"Oh, you've got no idea. Imagining I can see that steel rod straining against your pants - I just want to grope you and rub you, I want to get on my knees in front of you and open your fly and push your underwear out of the way and lick on your beautiful cock without even taking it out of your clothes."

"Jesus. Jesus. Ohh," _he says, the last sound coming out breathless. I'm a little breathless myself, but we've still got a way to go_.

"So, Anthony, what are we going to do now? We're sitting there at the table and the guys you arrived with have paired off with girls and disappeared. I'm not supposed to be sitting here drinking and talking with a client - and you're supposed to be looking around the women in the club and making your selection. But neither of us are doing what we're supposed to be doing. In fact, you stand up and hold your hand out to me, inviting me to the dance floor. Your hips are right at my eye-level. Oh my God, there's definitely something going on in your pants, Anthony, and suddenly I know I've just signed off hostess duty. I want to grab you by the ass and bring your crotch to my face but I force myself to look around and signal the staff manager. She'll just have to take over for tonight, because you're leading me to the dance floor and I've no intention of letting you get away. Once we're under the lights and the music is all around us I turn my back on you and reach behind me. You let me take your hands, and I pull you close, so close my ass is right up against your pelvis. I pull your hands to my ribcage, and Anthony that's when I arch my back and start to grind on you. I can feel your breath on my neck, and your hot hands just below my breasts, and best of all, I can feel something really, really good against my backside. I can feel your cock. Jesus, it must be big, Anthony. Is it big? How many inches Anthony?"

"About - just under eight."

"Oh fuck. If I get to bang you tonight, you'll fill me right up. You'll be all the way inside me. And what about girth? Is your hard-on really thick and wide?"

"Yeah, yeah it is, Marie."

"Are you _making_ it thick and wide for me, Anthony? Have you got that big beautiful eight inches in your hand right now, pumping it? Tell me how your cock looks, tell me about the shaft, and about the head. God, tell me it's dark red and glistening with pre-cum."

"Yes, it is. I'm hard, Marie, just for you. I'm dragging my foreskin up and down my length and over my swollen head - "

"What?"_ I hiss_. "Jesus Christ, Anthony, are you _uncut_?"

"Yeah."

_I can't stop myself. I moan, I really moan_. "Eight inches, thick, and uncut. Ohhhh."

_He moans in response._ "Do you like that, Marie? Do you like the sound of my dick?"

_I sure do. I'd like the sight of it even more. And the feel of it would be hallelujah, happy Christmas, Happy Birthday all in one. Oh yeah._

"I've got my hand in my panties now, Anthony. I'm really fucking wet, hearing you say those things. I'm wet thinking about your boner rubbing up against my ass. But Anthony, I want more. And I can't get it here in public, on the dancefloor. So you need to follow me to a private room. The deluxe room. Only the biggest payers get to come in here, but Anthony, you don't need to pay anything. For you, it's on the house. Actually, this isn't going to be quite free, Anthony. I'm going to expect something from you. Do you want to know what that is?

"What, baby, what?"

"You have to make me come, Anthony. That's the fee. Are you going to do that? Make me come?"

"Oh, Marie, I'm going to make you come again and again. Baby, just let me. I'll make you feel so good," _he promises_. "Sooo good."

_He sounds confident. I like it. He should, with an eight inch _uncut_ dick. My God._

"There's a catch though, Anthony. It's only fair to let you know."

_He pauses_. "What do you mean, a catch?"

"We're in the cubicle now, Anthony, and it's pretty bare. There's a chair, and against one wall there's a sofa. The walls are lined with mirrors - everywhere we look we see ourselves, you in your jeans and button-down shirt, still taller than me even though I'm wearing such high heels. And I'm in my emerald dress, so tight it clings to me everywhere, but one leg is free because of the asymmetrical hemline, and every mirror shows the lace elastic top of my black stocking, high up on my thigh. I lead you to the chair Anthony and sit you down in it, and that's when I remind you of the rule."

"Rule?"

"The unbreakable rule. The no-hands rule. I need to take your wrists now and pull them behind you, Anthony, and there are silk scarves tied to the back of your chair. I need to _restrain_ you."

_His gasp is audible_.

"Oh, fuuuck," _he whispers_. "You're going to tie me?"

"Oh yes, Anthony, I am. And as for our agreement? You have to make me come without using your hands. That leaves your dick and your tongue, doesn't it? I'm looking forward to this. I hope you're really skilled. Are you skilled Anthony? Do you like sucking pussy? How are you going to pleasure me, when your hands are bound?"

"Oh, fuck, I'm going to lick your clit and suck it and I'm going to put my tongue in you as far as it will go and I'm going to taste you inside and out, holding on to your sweet ass to keep you right in my face..."

_I interrupt_. "No, Anthony, you can't hold onto my ass, or anything else for that matter. Your hands are out of commission. You can't touch me with them."

_He's momentarily quiet._ "Well," _he says then, sounding frustrated,_ "How am I going to do this?"

"Anthony, we'll need to get creative. If Mohammed can't go to the mountain... but let's get started, shall we? There's Goldfrapp music playing and I just have to dance. I'm twirling away from you now, moving my hips and strutting, holding my arms over my head, letting the beat take me over. I went to ballet school Anthony, and I was really good, but after a while I found the steps and the positions too controlling, too restrictive. I just wanted to writhe in time with the pulsing, I wanted to express myself with my body. I'm very flexible, Anthony. You wouldn't believe what I can do with my legs, or how I can bend my back. I shake my booty as you watch me, sticking my ass out and putting on a show for you. I know you're enjoying it, I can see your chest rise and fall, and I can see a rigid outline in your pants. Normally I don't dance, Anthony, not at all, but I feel really uninhibited now, with mirrors all around me and with you watching. It's like I'm free to give myself permission to express what the music makes me feel. And it makes me feel sexy. Raunchy. Dirty. I want to touch you, Anthony. I move to where you're sitting, and you've got far too many clothes on. I can't see any flesh at all, and I don't like that. Since your arms are immobilized I can't do anything about your jacket, but your shirt? Oh, Anthony, I'm going to do something about that right now. I bend over, practically rubbing my tits in your face, as I undo each and every button, pulling the fabric aside so that I can see your chest. Jesus, you're built. You're ripped. I'm biting my lip with excitement as I get to see more of you - your belly. And below. Can I unbuckle your belt, Anthony? May I?"

"Yeah. Yeah. But are you going to show me your body too?"

"Ah. Fair's fair. Maybe I'll reach up to my shoulder and unclasp the two sides of my dress. I'm standing between your thighs, Anthony, still swaying to the music, and the fabric I'm clothed in falls to the floor. Well, not all of it. I'm in a black lace bustier, Anthony, which is so tight my breasts are pushed out over the top of it. And with that I'm wearing the tiniest thong you ever saw. It's so small it's gratuitous. It's scandalous. Shall I twirl around and let you see the view from the back? You'll probably want to spank my ass cheeks, Anthony, seeing them right in front of your face, but you won't be able to. I'm a curvy girl, there's more than a handful of me, both in the tits and the ass department. Do you like tits and ass, Anthony?"

"Oh. Fuck. Yeah," _he grunts_.

"What about thighs?" _I purr seductively_. "I'm turning back around now, Anthony, and I'm going to put one of my feet up on the chair next to your leg. My thigh is next to your face. My _inner_ thigh. It's all soft creamy skin, and then the black lace from my thigh-high stockings. Right there, at the level of your mouth. Shall I lean in closer, Anthony? If I do, you know what?"

"What?"

"My pussy will be in front of your mouth. You asked before how you could lick me when you're tied to a chair. Well, you could lick me if I put my pussy in your face. So that's what I'm going to do. My underwear is very damp, Anthony, because I was getting turned on watching myself dance. I was getting turned on seeing you watch me. But there's just one thing I want to do first. I'm going to run my index finger softly and slowly over your forehead, drawing an invisible line from your brow, down over your nose, over your mouth and chin, down your throat. A straight line, past your collarbones, down the centre of your chest. It's going to feel like fire, Anthony, slow and torturous, down your abdomen, over where your buckle is opened and your pants are undone. Right down to the base of your - your what, Anthony? What am I going to find?"

"Oh, God, you're at my dick. It's under your fingertip. Touch me. Take me in your hand. But get closer, Marie," _he murmurs._ "You're going to have to support yourself on the back of my chair. You're going to have to lean in, because I want you within reach of my tongue."

_This man! I love the way he talks to me._

"Do you like telling me what to do, Anthony? Considering you're helpless at the moment, I think _I'm_ the one in charge. But I'm going to do as you ask, I'll lean right over you, Anthony. I'm going to push my pussy right in your face. Remember I've still got my underwear on. If you want to lick me, it's going to be through fabric. I've kind of made a mess of these panties now, I can feel it. How damp they are. They feel really tight and constricting, because I know I'm swollen. My clit is just throbbing, needing some friction. Please, Anthony, shit, I hope you've got a long tongue. I hope it's supple. I hope you can deliver what you've promised. Can you?"

"Fuck, baby, I can deliver. But you've got to be in my mouth. You can't tease me. You've got to let me taste you," _he says._

_He loves these scenarios I construct for him, I can tell. His labored breathing lets me know, the faint liquid bumping sounds that have me picturing a large, well-formed hand sliding up and down on a rock-hard, heavy, thick, long dick. Oh, keep going baby, pleasure yourself slowly along with me until we're both veering out of orbit, ready to shatter._

"Oh, and Anthony - from this close up, you can see my tattoo," _I add, and he lets out a gratifying gasp._

"The fuck - ? _Ink?_ Jesus - tell me what it is. And where," _he begs_.

"I'll do better than that, I'll show you,"_ I whisper_. "But I'll have to take everything off. Everything except my stockings and shoes, that is. So the corset, Anthony - I reach behind myself to unhook it, and it's gone. My tits were so constrained - my nipples were tingling, they were so hard. I'll hold my breasts for you, Anthony, please, please, you've got to get your mouth on them, I'm desperate - please, suck me..."

_Oh, the sounds from him now are glorious. The moans, the uneven breath._

"So good, so good... but not enough. Anthony, I'm going to peel off this g-string, and after that you'll see all of me. All of me. To the inside of my hipbone, low down where my belly is really soft and curved, where my pubic hair starts, there's the image of an apple. Do you know what that symbolizes?"

_He doesn't actually enunciate, I hear an mmm-mmm._

"It symbolizes _everything_, Anthony. Temptation, choice, knowledge, good, evil. And fucking _nudity_. If you can see the apple, I'm _naked_. For you. And sweet. And ripe. And juicy. And I'm offering myself to you. I want you to take me."

"Oh yeah, oh yeah. That's what I want. Your sweetness. Your juice. Your taste. Come closer. Get so close that all I can feel is you, surrounding me."

_Well, fuck. I've been trying to keep my movements disciplined. His voice is so fucking sexy that I have to pace my self-fondling, because if I peak I'll wallow in a haze of rapture and I won't be able to keep up the momentum for him._

"Oh, Jesus, Anthony, if you're going to talk to me like that, all I want to do is come," _I pant._ "I have to see your dick now, I have to touch you. I want to pump you and pump you until you shoot your load all over both of us. Seeing you come will make me come. I fucking need you so badly, I've got no stamina, I want it _now_."

"You want me to come, Marie?" _he growls._ "Oh, I'll come. But not _on_ you, baby. I want to come _in_ you. Take your underwear off. Give me your tits in my face, and raise yourself over my cock. It's standing straight up like a soldier at attention, and you'll need to take me in your hand and guide me. You'll need to put me right where you want me, and you'll need to lower yourself down slow. Jesus, if you go too fast I'll hurt you, and I don't want to hurt you. I want to please you, Marie, I want to get my hard cock inside you and give you pleasure. I want to make you cry out with ecstasy and I want you to move on me any fucking way that feels good to you, because being inside you will be all I need. So go ahead, sit on me. Get me in you."

_He's ordering me around? When he's the one whose hands are tied? I get wetter, I bite my lip, I close my eyes and work my fingers faster on my clit._

"Oh, I will, I will. I've never wanted anything like I want you right now. Later, Anthony, I'll worship your dick, I promise, but I don't have time for that now. Fuck, you're hard. You're in my hand, your massive boner, you feel so fucking tense. I'm like a playground slide Anthony, just waiting for you. God, your dick is a monster - you're so fucking big, oh God, I sink onto you and you impale me, all the fucking way in, so deep. It's exquisite, Anthony, just this side of pain, you're so fucking huge. I push myself hard into your hipbones and you're groaning, because this feels just as good to you. When I raise myself up again I can feel the ridge of your head and I fucking want to take this slow, this ride all over your amazing cock - can you feel me, Anthony? Can you feel yourself slipping into the hot wet suction of my pussy? I don't want to let you go, I want to grind on you and make you stay in me and fuck me, fuck me so good, so hard - "

_His sounds change. He grunts several times, deep and guttural. Animalistic. Wordless._

"Anthony?" _I know he's finished, but I'm not. Disappointment flashes through me and I clench my teeth in frustration_.

"Marie - "_ he pants out_. "Fuck, Marie, I just emptied myself into you, so fucking hard, so deep, so good, and Christ, my dick isn't going down. I'm still so turned on. Can you feel me? My balls are aching, they're tight - oh shit, Marie, I think I'm going to come again. I want to tear these scarves off my wrists, I want to break the fucking chair, I want to pick you up and carry you over to the sofa and ease you down and I'm going to part your thighs and kneel between them, bending over you. Your pussy's dripping wet with a mixture of you and me and it's going to be even wetter soon, because I'm going to penetrate you again and fuck you. I'm going to take my time, Marie sliding my length in and out of you all the way, feeling your walls grip me, feeling your hips move. I'm going to slide one hand under your ass and hold you up to me so I get even deeper - "

_His voice is getting as slow and deep as the fucking he's telling me about, taking on a rhythm, taking me with it. Insistent, husky. My fingers automatically slow too, as if to persuade my clit to come for me, instead of pressuring it. I feel more sensitized._

"Are you with me, baby?" _he asks in a silken tone._ "Tell me. Describe what you're doing."

"I'm circling my hips beneath you, arching up every time you thrust into me."

"Ooh, that's good. _Intoxicating_."

"I feel every inch of you like this. I feel everything."

"So do I. You're fucking incredible inside - you know that? You're the best place I've ever been."

_Things accelerate then - I was so close before that I'm having no trouble approaching my peak again. I mutter_, "A - Anthony," _and hear his breath catch._

"I love hearing you say my name when you're excited," _he says_. "It does things to me. I'm already really worked up, moving in you when you're so warm and wet for me. Your muscles squeeze my dick, yet you're so soft in there. You're a warm infinity. Every ridge inside you massages me. I have to speed up, you're making me lose control, I can see fucking stars, I can't believe I've come already and I've stayed hard and I'm giving it to you again, my cock, I'm surging against your clit with every stroke and my balls are hitting the skin just below your entrance - "

_His voice gets more urgent, more disrupted by heavy breathing. _

"Can you feel me, Marie? What I'm doing to you? Open your eyes and watch us, baby. Look down between us and see us together. Oh, you make me insane, you make me crazy, you're getting tighter and your tits are bouncing everywhere and I'm so fucking hard for you, just for you, all for you - "

_He's grunting, his words punctuated by uh's and ah's, and amongst it all I hear the sound of his hand - busy, furious, fast. _Shit._ I thought since he'd already come that now he was just talking for my benefit, but he's really going at it. The realization brings me to the point of no return, and pushes me past it._

"Fuck, fuck, are you coming?" _he asks wildly. In the throes of orgasm, I can't speak._

"Marie - Marie? Oh fuck, baby, yeah, come on my dick, do it..."

_That was intense. Extremely. My heart is going hammer and tongs and I'm hot all over. As I start to calm down I hear the gasps from him I'm starting to recognize. Fuck, I love how he sounds vaguely surprised, like each time is the first orgasm he's ever had._

_When I've recovered enough for speech, I say_, "Well, Anthony, I'm impressed. Twice for you, in quick succession. I didn't know men could do that."

"Neither did I," _he answers, a smirk in his tone_. "Guess you're magic, Marie. Next time, though, let's make it your turn. Twice for _you_. How does that sound?"

"There'll be a next time?" _I ask_.

"Count on it."

_We're done for tonight. I'm tired, and ready to float off in a blissful haze. He must be shattered_.

"I suppose I'll be hearing from you, then," _I tell him._

"You certainly will. Tomorrow. But I wish I could curl up with you right now and hold you while we both sleep."

_Impossible, but sweet._

"You and I both know that can't happen," _I murmur, as I press end call._


	5. The Student

**Press "end call" 5**

_When the phone rings I all but pounce on it._

"Yeah? Hello?" _I say quickly. _"Is this you, Anthony?"

"Yes, it is. Hello, hi."

"Hey - I'm glad you've called! I really am!" _I say, my voice laced through with excitement_.

"That's quite a greeting. I'm glad I called too," _he says, puzzled. I haven't been this effusive before._

"Well, I'm_ buzzed_ that you've called, totally. I've been wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

"Yeeahh," _he replies slowly, now cautious_.

"Of course, you don't have to answer if they make you feel uncomfortable. They're kind of general, but they're personal at the same time. I want to ask you about masturbation."

_I hear a very surprised snort_. "Masturbation?" _he repeats._

"Yeah. I'm writing a paper about it for an assignment, as part of my psychology degree. I know about the girl's side of things - I mean, well, without actually admitting to anything here I _have_ had some experience in the field, but I want to consult someone about the male point of view. As in, an actual guy. Like, a person with a dick. If that's okay. Like, asking you about your dick and everything. I mean, if you don't mind," _I say, all in a rush. I probably sound embarrassed._

"I guess I don't mind," _he says, still wondering what's going on, but he'll get it soon. He'll know this is tonight's game._

"Oh, good, that's a relief, because I don't want to ask any of the guys on my course. They'll just, you know, think that I'm coming on to them or something, and I'm really not. My paper is going to be completely serious, not gratuitous. Not titillating. I mean, it's a purely intellectual treatise on an interesting subject. I'm not trying to be provocative."

_He's quiet._

"This paper will make up twenty percent of my mark for the year. It's very important. I'd really appreciate any help you're able to give," _I add._ "Your name won't be mentioned."

_There's a gentle chuckle at that. Now he knows I'm play-acting._ "Okay, Marie, if you can guarantee my anonymity, I'm happy to help you in any way I can," _he answers_.

"Great, great, thanks _heaps_. I've prepared some questions, and they mostly require a yes or no response, so you won't need to give me explanations or long replies. Can we start now? Would that be okay?"

"Yeah, sure," _he says, sounding a little hesitant, but intrigued. Good._

"Let's go from the beginning. Let's just say, for whatever reason, you're hanging out in your room, maybe lying on your bed resting or something, and you decide you're in the mood. So you maybe touch yourself somewhere first? I mean, not the - um, pleasure centre. Possibly your chest? Or your belly? Give yourself gentle, teasing, exploratory strokes? I know that's what I do."

"Do you?" _he says_,_ and I hear him swallow_.

"Oh, yeah. My whole torso, really. I run my fingers up and down very, very lightly. Oh, that's if I'm naked. Otherwise I slip my hands underneath my clothes. My outer clothes, that is. I get into the feeling of fondling myself over my underwear to start with. That's probably not very thrilling for a guy to hear. Sorry."

"Outside your clothes? You do that to yourself?"

"Well, at the beginning, yeah. I've got to work up to the more direct stuff, you know? If I just go for my - um, clit - straightaway there's no anticipation, no build-up. It might even go numb from the attention before it's ready and then I've got no chance whatsoever of coming. Some light handling first is definitely what I need. But hey, enough about me! I'm sure that's not very interesting."

"Actually, it's _very_ interesting. I like hearing about you. Are you looking at pictures while you do this?" _he asks, and I think bingo, we're away_.

"Whoah - like you mean porn? Well, um. I might be. Or I might not. Pictures are good sometimes, yeah, but I find my imagination is better, actually. I like a scenario. I take time to think of a situation beforehand, like a really hot guy that I might be flirting with, or something along those lines. Like, maybe a really hot situation."

"Yeah, Marie?" _His voice is soft and coaxing_. "What's your idea of a hot guy? Or a hot situation?"

"Hey - you're sidetracking me, aren't you? We're supposed to be talking about _you_ here. But I guess if this is weird for you I can keep talking about me first, if that would help. So - a hot guy? Now, I like tall men with dark hair, I have to admit. Not too skinny, but too muscley either. Just, you know, fit - like they could run up and down a beach or swim a few lengths of the local pool, or maybe, like, go a couple of rounds in bed without having a heart attack."

_He chuckles_.

"And a hot situation? Well, that could be anything. Like, say, some guy and me are in a group of friends and we keep checking each other out but not really talking much or anything, and then we all go to the beach and I see him in his trunks and I'm suddenly aware that I've gotten wet, and I haven't been in the water yet. I don't mean wet all over - just somewhere in _particular_, if you know what I mean. And he's eyeing me off too and I realize that my nipples are sticking out, when I'm not even cold. And then the whole bunch of us jump into the waves and we're all laughing and fooling around, splashing each other, and the hot guy comes up to me and starts talking in this deep, sexy voice, asking if I want to go a little further..."

"Further?" _Anthony says_.

"Yeah. Like further out - but it's ambiguous. He's taking my hands and drawing me with him to where my feet don't touch the bottom and I have to hold on to him. He's really strong, with broad shoulders, and I clutch him but the swell is choppy so the best thing for me to do is wrap my legs around him, and of course that brings my crotch to his belly and he's grinning and cheeky and saying suggestive things. Then somehow the knot that's holding my bikini top together comes undone and my top starts to float away, exposing my breasts. He's still grinning but he's looking slightly dazed - because my girls are bobbing in the water, the tips are puckered and swollen, and they're rubbing right on his chest. He's got hair there - not a whole lot but some, and it's wiry feeling and it stimulates me. He starts to look a bit less cocky and a whole lot transfixed. I can see he's unsure of what's going to happen but he hopes I'm not about to turn around and head for the shore. When I loosen my grip on his shoulders he looks mildly panicked, but I'm just doing it so I can slide down him a little and see what's going on in the groin area. If I'm really lucky, the water isn't so cold that it's stopped him from, you know, getting it up."

"Oh, I _bet_ he's got it up," _Anthony says_. "Holding on to you in the water, your arms and legs around him and your uncovered breasts right under his nose."

"Yeah, well, in my fantasy I slide down his belly, and he's got it up, all right. He's got a huge boner, I just about impale myself, I wriggle all around, and his hands are on my ass by now, pulling me against him - hey, wait up. Does this sound good to you? Like, with you being a guy - I mean, I totally touch myself thinking about something like this. This scenario would get me warmed up and ready to go. I'd probably have to lick my fingers to start with, I mean after I'd been touching myself for a while through my panties, but by the time I'm thinking about this guy's dick between my legs I'd be ready for some _skin_, you know?"

"Oh, yeah - skin? What skin, Marie? Where? Are you going to take off your bikini now?" _Anthony says, and he's heating up. Good boy. Oh boy. The slightest indications of excitement from him really do things to me._

"Oh, well, in my imagination I'd move and adjust myself so that I could feel him, really feel him. He'd be so hard his dick would be vertical, pointing to his navel - actually since this is a fantasy anyway - his dick would practically _reach_ his navel - and it wouldn't just be long and skinny, either. It would be a handful. A mouthful. A _pussy_ful."

_Now Anthony laughs_. "In real life you haven't met a guy whose hard on is long enough to reach his navel? And big and solid too? Oh, girl - you need to see mine - "

"_What_?" _I say_. "Come on, now pal, you're just bragging. It's not exactly something I can check, is it? I mean, I could say to you that my boobs are like watermelons and you'd just know that isn't true, since you see me every day around the campus - but I have no idea how big or not big your dick might be."

"You could find out," _he suggests._

_It's so cute that he's joining me in this little impromptu play I've devised. I pause before answering, then give a nervous giggle_. "Well, hmm, Anthony, I think we're getting well and truly side-tracked here. I've asked you about wanking - "

"And I'm talking about my dick. Offering to prove I'm not making any claims I can't substantiate. Offering to show it to you. You can see for yourself." _  
_

"Not going to happen, Anthony," _I say as firmly as I can._ "We are _friends_, not fuck-buddies. Got that?"

"If you insist. I think it's kind of a shame though."

"Are you smirking right now? I can hear a smirk," _I accuse_. "And I'm going to completely ignore it, because unlike you, I am trying to be serious here. So. Where were we?"

"You were telling me how you get yourself off."

"Well, how the hell did you twist the conversation around? You're supposed to be telling me how _you _get off!" _I burst out._

_Anthony laughs, and it's a sound I really, really like. Nearly as much as I like the sound of him panting. And that's almost as much as I like the soft grunts he makes when he comes. Speaking of which, while we're amusing each other like this, no-one's coming. Back to business._

"But now I remember that uncharacteristically for you, you're being shy and you asked me to go first. Although now that I think of it - that's good manners. I've totally lost the thread of what I was talking about before, so can I just ask you questions, like I was planning to in the first place?"

"Okay," _he answers easily, and he knows it's back to business now, too, although he sounds perfectly happy with the flirty chat. But surely he didn't call me tonight just to flirt and chat?_

"So," _I begin again_. "You're at home, doing nothing much, you've got the urge, and you start thinking sexy things. Can your dick get hard just from thoughts alone or do you have to touch it?"

"Either. Both."

"Really? Hmm. Right. Your dick. Okay, I need to focus. Let's just say you're sitting on your couch and your room mates are out and won't be home for hours, and you've got your laptop. You start surfing, even though you're supposed to be studying, and you get onto your favorite porn site..." _my voice trails off._

"Marie? Are you still there?" _Anthony says after a moment._

"Yeah, I am. I'm just having a crisis. Sorry."

"A crisis?" _he asks quickly._ "What's the matter?"

"Oh, crumbs. There's something I don't know if I should tell you or not. But if I don't, I'm going to feel as if I'm keeping a weird, freaky secret, so I think maybe I should just confess."

"Confess what? I'm kind of confused here," _he says, and I can tell he's wondering what's going on - he doesn't know if I'm playing or serious, if I'm Marie, the woman he's been calling nightly, or Marie, his friend the student who wants to ask him about jerking off._

"Well, I'll just a deep breath and explain, I guess," _I say, inhaling and holding my breath a while, before exhaling with what's almost a sigh. _"Here goes - remember a week or so ago when you loaned me your ipod so I could download your tunes? And you wanted it back before Monday but you were going to be out of town over the weekend and you gave me a key to your apartment so I could bring it over? I came by on Sunday and let myself in Anthony, and you were home. You were sitting on your couch with your back to the door. You didn't hear me come in, and I was just about to say hello when I realized you were busy, Anthony. You were in sweatpants and you were stroking the front of them, and you were bulging there like you had a tentpole between your legs. A _flag_pole. I know I should have just tiptoed away and respected your privacy Anthony, but I didn't. I stayed and watched you. And _wow_ it was hot."

"You watched me? You thought it was hot? Seeing me in sweatpants with a hard on?"

"Oh, Anthony - it wasn't just seeing you with a boner in your pants. I saw you take your dick out. I watched what you did. Every little thing, every touch, every stroke. The way your hands moved, the speed of them, the grip. I saw how you make yourself come, and I saw your jizz. I perved on you, Anthony, big time, shamelessly. Some friend, huh? I got all hot and bothered, and quite frankly messy, over watching my _friend_ pulling on his cock and coming all over himself, and then Anthony, what's even worse, while I was watching - I'm so lecherous I can't believe what I did - I put my hand down my pants and I masturbated myself. Am I a disgrace?"

"Oh God, no. No, I think you're hot. What you did was really sexy. Hearing about it's made me hard. I'm wearing those sweatpants again tonight. So you saw my dick? Are you picturing it right now?"

"Anthony! _Friend_zone, okay? We don't do that, you and me! We're violating the first rule of girl-guy platonic buddy-ship if we start thinking about each other beating off and coming!"

"Did you come, while you were watching me?" _he murmurs_.

"No!"

"No?" _he asks, slowly_. "I'm disappointed, though probably not as disappointed as you. I owe you one. So why didn't you come?"

_I huff._ "You finished first. I had to get out of there so you didn't catch me. I came later though."

"Oh, really? Good. I hope you're going to tell me about it," _he says, and I smile. Oh boy, do I smile. This phone call has been wavering all over the place - parts of it have been almost like a real conversation rather than the unspoken contract we've both tacitly agreed, which has an expected outcome. It's time I worked on achieving that outcome. I've got a treat lined up for him._

"Okay. I've already outed myself as a colossal perv. I might as well admit to what happened after I more or less fled your apartment, in a complete state. I'd been so close, Anthony - right on the edge. My underwear was drenched. My nipples were hard. There was only one thing on my mind, and that was getting to my room and finishing. I needed to so badly. But we'd had exchange students visiting the campus, and in the hall right outside my door a girl came up to me and asked if she could have a few words. I wanted to yell at her to leave me alone - or at least come back in fifteen minutes, but I couldn't be rude. So I said yeah, sure, and invited her in."

"A girl. An exchange student," _Anthony says, bewildered._

"Yeah. So we go into my room and I sit on my bed and she's on my swivel chair facing me, and she just launches straight in. She's heard I'm writing a paper on masturbation and she says she's never been able to get herself off, and she wants to read my tutorial."

"Oh. _Oh_," _Anthony breathes_. "Your paper is a _tutorial?_ For women? On how to beat off?"

"Well, no," _I say_. "My project is about male masturbation, and that's what I tell her, and she says 'But_ I _want to know how to do it. You must have _some_ information. Can you help me?' and she looks all forlorn and hopeful. And it's true - I do have some information, although again, it's about male masturbation, but it's an eyewitness account. It's fresh in my mind, and very, very detailed, and thinking about it is absolutely guaranteed to get me off. So I ask her if she's hetero. And she says yes. And I ask her if she wants to try something. And she says yes, anything. And I tell her I won't touch her, and I won't ask her to touch me, but does she want to experiment right now? And she says yes."

"Holy shit," _Anthony says, his voice shaking, and it doesn't sound like he's capable of saying anything else. Oh yeah._

"Now Anthony, I'm not gay, whatsoever. I'm not even bi-curious. I'm not going to take my clothes off or anything, in front of this girl, and I have no interest in seeing her naked. This is going to be non exhibitionist. So I tell her to do what I do, more or less, and I say I'll talk her through it. And I tell her to lean back a little and get comfortable. Spread her legs. Relax. And I ask her again if she likes guys. She nods. So I say that I know this guy and I was just round at his place. And he's really hot. And I swear to God, Anthony, I don't mention your name, but I start describing you. I say you're big. Like, tall. Athletic build. Long legs. You hate shaving but you don't want a beard, so you only shave every few days and you've got a permanent scruff. While I'm telling her this, I let one hand drift idly over my breast, over my t-shirt. She copies me. I say you've got a really sexy mouth, your lips are full and beautiful and they look soft but still masculine. I say sometimes when we're hanging around together I pretend to notice something something over your shoulder so that you'll turn around to see what it is and then I'll laugh because you fell for my trick. The real reason I do it is to look at your ass. My fingers start to circle my nipple and I let my other hand move to my thigh and trace the inner seam of my jeans. The girl - I don't even know her name - does the same thing. But I'm wearing one of those bras with the foam cups, and I can't feel my nipples. And that's not any good to me, Anthony. My nipples are super, super sensitive. They're a crucial element in me being turned on. Although, to be honest, my own fingers on my nipples feels really good, but a guy's tongue on them just about sends me crazy. If a guy's really good, like _talented_, if he sucks on them and licks them and nibbles them just the right way, there's such a direct connection to my clit I reckon I could come from nipple stimulation alone. But you probably don't want to hear about that, Anthony."

"I do," _he says, sounding a little rushed. A little breathless_. "I do want to hear it. It's - informative. You say specifically a guy's tongue though. Not a girl's?"

"Anthony - I told you! I'm not gay! Just because I'm sitting there teaching, _instructing_ a girl how to masturbate by demonstrating it myself - it doesn't mean I want her sucking on my breasts! And anyway, squeezing them is almost as good - and I love squeezing them. I love how they're soft and firm at the same time. How they feel in my hands, and how they feel _to_ my hands. And she's copying me, this girl, and it looks like she's enjoying it too. I'm thinking about you and I'm talking about you, and me and this girl are fondling our breasts as I describe how you run your fingers over the outline of yourself, of your dick, tracing the contours through the thick fabric of your sweatpants, and then you bring your thumb up, although you can't circle yourself properly because your clothes are in the way. The swelling in your pants was so big, Anthony, and I thought you were already hard, but once you were touching yourself with a bit more focus and intent and attention I could see that your dick is really a force to be reckoned with. It's a tower of power. All this time we've been meeting in the cafeteria for lunch Anthony, and I didn't know your dick is a monolith. And when I saw your hand slip under the waistband of your pants, and I saw you pull them aside with the other hand to free yourself, I nearly started singing hymns of praise. I was remembering the sight of you, and talking about it, and pressing my thighs together because by that time I needed friction. I needed action. I reached between my legs to touch myself - but damn. Jeans are just too sturdy to allow for anything so delicate as clitoral stimulation. I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Anthony, that a clitoris is a delicate thing. Am I right?"

"Marie, oh yeah, a clitoris is sensitive and wondrous and tender and lovely - and you can't just sit there and rub it through jeans."

_I smirk_. "It sounds as though you're speaking with true conviction, Anthony. Am I to infer you're a fan of the clitoris?"

_He emits a sound that's a mixture of sigh and moan_.

"Oh yeah. Are you touching yours right now?" _he says huskily._

"Maybe," _I say, _"but I'll tell you, this afternoon - well. There's me, and there's my unexpected visitor, and we're both squirming and to be honest, I can't progress this any further with my stupid nipple-obscuring bra and my clit-blocking jeans. And if this is how she's been masturbating all her life so far, it's no wonder she's never gotten to the finishing line. I'm really, desperately horny by now and I've already been thwarted once today. I need to come. And if she needs to come, perhaps I'd better get real. So I peel my t-shirt off, and she copies me. I'm a little shocked that her bra is so lacy, and I can see her aureoles so clearly. Her nipples are erect, they're perfect little tawny brown peaks in the centre of her breasts, which are barely bigger than her cupped hands. I'm not into chicks but she sure has pretty boobs. If I was a guy I'd just wanna wrap my hands around them and get my mouth on them and lick her and feel those taut little nipples pebbling under my tongue - "

_I pause, and sure enough, Anthony's breaths are short and shallow, hearing of my fictitious friend._

"Uh-huh?" _he says._

"Oh yeah. I'm watching her, looking at her smooth, caramel skin as I undo the button on my jeans, and she mirrors me. I slide the zipper down, she does the same thing. I lift my hips and wriggle and shimmy, so impatient now to pull the denim over my hips and ass, my thighs, over my knees. I end up kicking them off altogether, because I'm going to need to get my legs apart for the next little while, and I don't want any restraints. By this time I'm telling her all about your huge cock, how you were holding it lightly with the thumb and fingertips of one hand, caressing your dick so softly while the other hand followed the happy trail that starts at your upper torso and proceeds to your belly button, and below. You stopped briefly at the base of your cock for a quick fondle and then you went further down and fondled your balls. Oh shit, fuck, damn, fuck me Anthony - when I saw you do that to yourself this afternoon I got so wet it was like a tidal wave. Seeing your hands there, seeing you excite yourself - I was at the edge, the very edge. The edge of reason, Anthony. My hand down my own pants, my teeth biting my lip hard to stop myself from moaning, my knees so weak from the pleasure I was feeling that I had to lean against the wall - and I was recreating all of this while I was sitting facing this girl, both of us with our thighs spread and out hands by now in our panties. She was very pretty, this girl, with a sex flush starting up over her chest, and her eyes all heavy-lidded. I thought my lesson was effective, although I couldn't be sure, because I couldn't see see exactly what was going on in her panties, and she couldn't see in mine. I mean, not to sound as though I'm obsessed with my clitoris - but they're a little mysterious, aren't they? I thought in the spirit of being a good educator I should be thorough. So, Anthony, I took my panties off. And so did she."

_There's definitely some labored breathing coming through the phone._ "You - " _he says._ "You let this girl _see_ you? And you looked at her?"

"It was necessary," _I say._

"Oh, shit. Jesus Christ, that's hot," _he groans. _

"Well, even though I know I'm sopping wet, saturated, I lift my fingers to my mouth and give them a good coating, and then I reach down. I'm telling her about you holding yourself more firmly, watching as though you're mesmerized when your hand pulls your foreskin all the way up over the swollen head of your dick, and slides it back down with a tortuous slowness, and then grasps your shaft tightly at the base while the other hand takes over and slides up again, your thumb edging so slowly over the prominent ridge of your head, and while I tell her I'm moving my hand, and all four fingers, up and down slowly along my slit with my middle finger pressing slightly more firmly than the others. That's because my middle finger is rubbing straight onto my clit, Anthony, while my other fingers are rubbing on my lips. It feels wonderful. Fantastic. I keep stroking, and while I'm doing it I'm recalling you wrapping your hand firmly around your cock, like you'd reached the point where you weren't teasing yourself any more. You were serious about making yourself come. And when I thought about that, Anthony, remembering what followed, I knew my time was going to run out. And I knew my fingers would have to be really, really slippery and soft on my clit if I was going to have to hurry things along. I knew I was going to have to take emergency measures. Anthony - would you rush a girl like that if you were, like, being intimate in real life? Would you expect her to come on demand, within a timeframe? Could you slow yourself down for your partner, Anthony?"

_Those sounds of his, the ones that make me want to come on demand, within a timeframe, are transmitting to my ear, then directly to my clit. And not only my clit. They're inside me too, way down deep. Deep. Where I wish I could feel him, this dick I'm picturing, this dick that I need. I haven't got anything I can put inside of me other than my own fingers, and I've always found them a poor substitute._

"Do you mean for you, Marie? I'd do anything, anything," _he pants back_, "tell me what you want, what you're feeling, what I can do for you."

"Anthony," _I state as firmly as I can,_ "I'm not just asking for myself. Here's this girl watching me, trying to learn how to have an orgasm using her fingers - and I've got to make it easier for her. I'm getting so close, I need to make sure she can see what's going on. So Anthony, I take the first two fingers of my left hand and I spread my lips - my outer lips - as wide as I can. Then I push the third finger of my right hand deep into me, into where it's so warm and snug and pulsing and liquid and clinging and throbbing, and I coat my finger with the hot wet that's in there, and I drag it slowly out - as slowly as I'd want to feel a cock moving out, although I know you and I aren't talking about fucking - and I circle my clit, smooth and light and fast. I can't keep my hips still, they just undulate. Oh - I know we're not talking about fucking, because we're _friends_, but my God, I'm picturing your hips cradled in my thighs, and I'm seeing myself opening for you, taking you in, wanting you to fill me up where I'm aching with need, making me ache with pleasure instead. I'm so aroused now that as I talk I'm panting. My clit is swollen, so soft and plump and begging for release. And this girl sitting opposite is open-mouthed now, looking glazed, and partly copying my rhythm, partly finding her own. Her hips are pushing upwards just like mine are, and Anthony - I can see the moisture there on her. She's dipping her fingers in and pulling them out covered in nectar and her eyes are completely unfocused - and I keep talking about your dick, Anthony. About you. About how your balls are so tight, about how you've dragged your tongue over the palm of one hand and how you've spat into the fingertips of the other - how you've covered the head of your dick with saliva until it glistens, and then you've coated your shaft with it too, and how you're pumping now, you're jacking your dick hard, and it's so rigid and there's strain showing all over you, veins and tendons standing out, your belly and your thighs clenched. And then, Anthony - I can't wait for her. I can't speak any more. It's happening. I whip my hand away from my clit as my whole body goes into spasm. I'm crying out - I can't help it. I think - I think I call out your name."

"Oh, fuck, Marie, Marie," _he grunts, and he's crying out my name. The name I've given him, that is. A wave of pleasure hits me so hard at the sound of it that I feel like I might actually pass out, and the waves keep coming, the strength of my orgasm taking me by surprise. Once I'm compos mentis again, I realize that my caller and I are panting at one another and that our breathing is synchronized. Well, shit._

"So," _he says, and by now I know when he's smiling._ "Today's scenario. You watching a guy beating off when he doesn't know you're there. Is that something you _actually_ do, or is it something you'd _like_ to do, or did you think of it for my entertainment?"

"I'm sorry, but that's not information I'm prepared to divulge," _I say primly, smiling as well._

"If you're not going to answer that question, you won't answer my next one either. You and another girl. Lesbian voyeurism. You _do_ it, you _want_ to do it, or the whole thing was invented for my benefit?"

"I'm not into girls," _I answer._ "Look, we've run a little over time tonight, and, well, I should really hang up now. I might get other calls."

"You have a call-waiting facility, don't you?" _he growls._

"Yes, but I need to go and - freshen up."

"Marie, after hot sex with a guy who's made you feel really good you need to pay him attention, and let him pay _you_ attention, because that's how you both ensure that it's going to happen again," _he says, sounding half playful, half serious._

_Fuck, he's got a great voice. I want to pay him attention all right. I want him to talk to me for longer and I want to hear the way he smiles. But when he dialed my number tonight he was agreeing to the terms of a contract, and when I answered, I was agreeing too._

"It'll happen again if you call me again," _I reply, and I press end call._


	6. The Patient

**Press "end call" 6**

_The phone doesn't even get a chance to ring - I've picked up the handset as soon as I see the light flicker._

"Hello?" _I say hurriedly._

"Well, hello. You're quick," _is the response_. "I was wondering if you'd make me wait."

"Oh, of course not, Doctor. I really appreciate that you're making time for me. I know you're a busy man," _I answer_.

"Doctor? You're expecting a call from a doctor? Is something wrong?" _It's Anthony of course, and he sounds worried._

"No, no, it's fine," _I assure him_. "_I'm_ fine. Everything's fine."

"Why did you think I might be a doctor?" _he asks sharply_. "Are you unwell?"

_I settle back in my chair and take a deep breath._

"No, not at all. I don't mean to worry you. I'm the picture of health. There's just a little issue - well, I hardly know how to express this - I shouldn't be self-conscious, after all I'm an adult. I should be able to talk about things."

"What's going on? Is this part of the game or not? Are you all right?" _he demands and he's very serious._

"Dr Anthony - " _I say, then pause._ " - I'm perfectly all right, generally speaking. However, the reason I need to consult you - I know it shouldn't be difficult for me to say this because after all you're a specialist in the field and my situation can't be something you've never heard before - " _I sigh._ "You're highly qualified, highly trained. Helping women like me, with this particular issue - it's what you _do_."

_There's a moment's quiet while he thinks, and then he says,_ "Oh. Marie, please take your time with whatever it is you need to say," _and I know he's caught up. He's with me. Good for you, Dr Anthony._

"Well, as an introduction maybe I should tell you a bit about myself. I think - without vanity - that I'm reasonably attractive. I'm five foot-four, slender but with curves in the right places, and I'm fit and healthy. I attract male attention, and I'm happy to admit that I relish that attention. I'm a very warm person, Doctor, who loves to be close to people. I have no fear of intimacy, and I go on a lot of dates. Men take me out and I enjoy their company, and when the dates draw to a close I look forward to making out. If my date doesn't want to take things further I'm really disappointed, because even on the first date I'm willing to go as far as he'll take me. I'm very sensuous and I'm always eager for touching and fondling. I want to start unbuttoning my date's shirt and running my palms over his chest, revelling in the feel of smooth solid muscles under my fingers. I want to feel the warm skin of him and find my way around his torso until I can slip my hands inside the waistband of his jeans and explore. God - I love a man's ass when it's tight and firm. If I'm restricted in my exploration by his pants and his belt it just makes me more eager. And if he moans against me because he wants friction - well that just fuels the fire. Then I'm compelled to push my hips forward to connect with his so I can seek out the steel behind his fly, and discover he's hard for me and he's ready and hoping for action. I love that, it gets me so excited."

"Yes, Marie? You get excited by the awareness that your date has an erection? What is he doing to you at this time?" _he asks. Nice Anthony, playing along._

"He's doing some exploring of his own, Doctor. He's trailing his hands from my shoulders to my chest and he's circumspect at first because he doesn't know if he has my permission or not. He might brush me just above the neckline of the top I'm wearing, carefully gauging my reaction. But he really doesn't need to be this restrained Doctor, because I'm not going to stop him. I want him to find my breasts and hold them and squeeze them - not hard, but enough to let me know that he's dying to get his hands all over my skin."

"Is that what you want? Hands on skin? On a first date?"

"That's the least of it, Doctor. I only date men I'm attracted to - men I want to have sex with. And since I want to have sex with them, I'm not going to play the puritan. I'm assertive when it comes to having my needs met, Doctor. And my needs are to to be grasped and fondled and fucked."

_There's a sharp intake of breath. A faint hiss too. Oh, Anthony, I love to hear that luscious, expressive sound from you. I've got to work out how to make it happen often._

"So Doctor, to expediate things, I never wear outfits that might present any impediment. My clothing choices for date nights are well-made and classy, but they hint at seduction. And Doctor, I never, never wear pants on a date, only a skirt or a dress. That's precisely because when we get to this part of the night I want my date to have access to me. I want him to be able to slide the fabric of my hemline upwards over my thighs, high enough for him to reach underneath and stroke my skin. I really, really like the direct contact. And another personal rule of mine, Doctor, is that on a date I always, always wear a thong. For one thing, I like the feeling of it when I'm out with a man - the sensation of such a miniscule strip of material between my legs, barely covering my pussy, narrowing to what's virtually a thread running between my ass cheeks. It makes me sensitized - secretly aroused, secretly turned on, this constant stimulation right where it counts. And for another thing - I love it when my date and I start getting tactile, _intimate_, and he glides his hand up under my skirt - to find my ass cheeks completely naked. Men react differently Doctor - some gasp, some moan, some mutely close their eyes and keep touching. Some of them curse."

"Do you like those reactions, Marie?" _Anthony asks._

"Oh, Doctor, I like all of them. I get so affected I want to mash my hips into the guy's hips and see what's going on there. Or better still, open my legs and mash my _core_ into his hips. But it would be a little too soon for that. So I moan back to whoever it is I'm with, encouraging him, urging him, twisting a little to make things easier. And then I love it when he reaches further inwards and he finds the sliver of fabric that's all there is between his fingers and my pleasure garden. My lips, my clit, my pussy - all waiting to be plundered, there for the taking behind a flimsy, barely-there trifle of black silk."

"Oh God, Marie, that sounds - irresistible," _Anthony murmurs_.

"Ah - uh-hmm, _Doctor," I say, reminding him he's supposed to be a medical professional._

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing while all this is going on. Well, if my date is tracing along the ribbon of fabric that's so thin it actually parts my lips I'm not doing much at all besides writhing around trying to get his fingers in me, or trying to angle my hips so that he's touching my clit, but if he's cupping my ass or holding my hips, then what I'm doing is pressing up close against his groin. There's nothing like the feel of a rigid cock nudging at my lower belly, and against my pubic mound. It sets me alight - the anticipation, the sheer _wanting_. If a man is grinding himself up against me there, I almost turn feral. I moan like an animal in heat - I scratch at him and bite Doctor, I really do. I get so desperate to have that hardness between my legs that I plead and beg. Oh God, I love it when he's still fully dressed and I'm so excited I feel the surge of wetness in me. I could soak the front of his pants, and that's when I've got to escalate the state of affairs. He'd better get his dick out of his clothes before I do something drastic, I swear."

"Marie, you sound - uh - so - passionate," _Anthony rasps_.

"Passionate? By then I'm consumed with lust, that's what I am," _I answer._ "My need is so acute I could climb over a man in his car, pin him to the seat, pull his shaft of his right out of his pants and maneuver into position above him. And then sink just enough, just enough for the swollen head of his dick to be parting my lips. Or if we're standing at my door I could lift one leg as high as I can get it - up to his hip and higher, and free his dick and line the two of us up. That moment, Doctor, that moment of first entry, when he's _right there_ between my lips and I'm fleetingly anxious that he's not going to fit but I'll die if he doesn't - that's rapture for me. That's nearly the most thrilling sensation in the world."

"Nearly?" _he pants_. "There's something better?"

"Oh yes there is. What's even better is what happens just afterwards. Once he's breached the threshold, guided himself and opened me and found the angle to make us fit. Once he's fully sheathed in me, when his hips are as close as they can get, when he's as deep as he can be and I've felt every thick unyielding inch of him - when I'm stretched by his size and completely filled - that's so pleasurable I never want it to end."

"Oh, I'm sure it's pleasurable. I feel good hearing you describe it," _he says,_ "and tell me Marie - what about after that? Once he's in you? The sex? The fucking? How does that make you feel?"

"It turns me to _jello_. Being driven into by a man with a good hard dick, a really big solid cock, a man who knows what he's doing and can thrust so that he's smooth and insistent and relentless and strong - I get wet and fevered and aching - it drives me wild."

"You like it smooth and insistent? You're driven wild? What about when he makes you come?" _He's sounding fevered and aching now himself. But hold on Anthony - we're not there yet._

"That's just it Doctor. That's why I need to see you," _I say_.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Oh God, I _want _to come, Doctor, I want it so much. But they don't make it happen, Doctor, even though they try. I experience a delicious, delirious build-up but no culmination. I'm left suspended without release or relief no matter what they do. When I'm by myself I can reach a climax in a matter of minutes, and then I can come again and again. But when I'm with a man, I'm anorgasmic. So I'm consulting you, Doctor, to see if you have any advice. To see if you can help me."

"Uh - " _he says, non-plussed and hesitating._ "Anorgasmic? You've never been brought to climax by a man?" _The average Joe who makes a call for phone sex wouldn't be expecting to be doused with ice cold water half way through by a woman who states so baldly that the men she sleeps with just aren't managing to ring her bell._

"No, Doctor. Never. Unfortunately."

"Well - " _he says, still at a loss. He thought we were just getting to the really good part, but no baby, I'm slowing you down. I'm going to start this whole fun train ride again from the beginning - and you know why, Anthony? Because I'm edging you. If orgasm is delayed, you have a better one, right? And you have more ejaculate, right? You come like a fucking king tide. That's been my experience with actual sex, although I haven't tried it before with virtual. But I'm trying it now, because I want you to have a mind-melting orgasm, Anthony._

"So, Doctor," _I purr, wriggling back in my chair and getting ready for the therapy session, _"I'm really very, very appreciative that you could fit me into your schedule today. I don't mind the short notice, although I'm sorry I didn't really have the time to present myself as I normally would. I'm rather informal. I mean, I put my makeup on so quickly that I smudged mascara and eyeliner around my eyes and it's made them look rather sooty. I hope that doesn't bother you. And if I'd known I'd get an appointment with you today I wouldn't have worn these old jeans - I've had them forever and they're so faded and stressed they're almost falling apart. They're completely molded to my shape and they're really quite threadbare in parts - across my ass especially, and the fronts of my thighs. I'm afraid there are actual tears. I hope you don't mind these scruffy jeans, Doctor."

"Well, no I don't mind," _he says, wondering at the change of gear, the change of pace. Don't worry baby, I'm not going to leave you hanging._

"And this plaid shirt, Doctor. I've had it since I was a teenager, and I've gained a little weight since then. Heaven knows why - but I reckon I put on ten pounds - all in the chest! Honestly - I was flat-as-a-board one day - and the next day I had these plush, plump breasts bouncing all over the place! I couldn't bear to give up my favorite shirt, even though it doesn't fit me any more - I'm really straining at the buttons. I wouldn't be surprised if I popped all the way out of them, although I certainly hope I don't. It would be mortifying. I tend to only wear this shirt around the house when I don't expect to see anyone. And I didn't expect to be seeing you today Doctor, so I hope the way I'm dressed is okay - I mean the torn jeans and the too small shirt and - well, I'm wearing cuban-heeled cowboy boots too, Doctor. Probably most women who turn up to your clinic don't look like they've arrived straight from dancing on the bar in some tequila-soaked bad-ass cowgirl strip joint."

"No - no they don't," _Anthony says, sounding approving. I know he's picturing the outfit I've just described._ "But you're absolutely fine the way you are, Marie."

"Okay, Doctor. Well, may I ask - what does your treatment entail? I mean, should I undress? If so - all the way, or just my lower half? Are you going to examine me? Do I need to lie down? Or will you examine me standing up? Would you like me on my hands and knees on your table? If you're going to ascertain how I can climax from penetration, you're going to have to - well, I guess, um, penetrate me. Will you do that with an - implement? Such as a vibrator? Or a dildo? Or Doctor - are you going to use a penis? Because I think that would be the most helpful, really. A penis."

"Jesus, Marie," _he says, voice a little croaky._ "Jesus - where are you going with this?"

"All the way, Doctor. That's what I want. All the way. To tell you the truth, I'm feeling turned on just talking to you about myself. That's the first step, isn't it - for me to become aroused? I'm not going to experience orgasm without being aroused first. And I'm getting aroused wondering what you're going to do to me. Do you use equipment for these sorts of sessions, Doctor? Do you use sex toys? I'm entirely open to the idea, if your expert opinion is that they'll be effective. Whatever you say, Doctor. I have to admit, I'm feeling quite a rush now. Excuse me if I'm wriggling a bit. I'm paying attention to you, I really am, even if it looks like what I'm doing is pressing my legs together. I'm doing that too, to try and get a bit of pressure happening on my - oh - can I say it? My clitoris, Doctor. My _clit._"

_Ten points to me. Anthony has started breathing heavily. He likes this one. So do I._

"Well, I'm feeling a little vulnerable Doctor, because I don't know what's expected of me and I'm entirely in your hands, so to speak. Not yet, of course, but I will be - won't I? And Doctor while I'm standing here waiting, and you're regarding me with some speculation, you start to slowly walk around me and there's heat generated by your gaze. I feel it up and down, on my breasts and my waist, my hips and thighs - and as you move out of sight I know you're staring at my ass. I know these jeans of mine aren't quite decent from the rear view, and through the threads you can glimpse flesh. I really should have gotten changed Doctor - I really shouldn't be flashing my ass at you like this. But it's too late now. I start to blush as you reappear, and I get more and more self-conscious with the intense way you're checking me out. My blush spreads - I can feel the warmth of it on my throat, extending down to my cleavage, which is blatantly on display in this skimpy little shirt. The heat from your eyes is on my breasts too as you watch them rise and fall. Oh God - my nipples are hardening. What must you think of me? You're very kind actually - you tell me to relax, and then you ask me if I trust you. Of course I do, Doctor - implicitly. I'm just a bit - agitated. Hyper aware. You ask me to close my eyes and then I hear you moving across the room and I hear the sound of a drawer opening and closing. You return and stand behind me, so close your breath caresses the back of my neck, and then - "

"What? What then?" _my caller asks quickly._

"Oh. I was not expecting this. Definitely not," _I say._

"What weren't you expecting, Marie?"

"You're murmuring to me in gentle, soothing tones, telling me that what you're doing is an essential part of the treatment. I'm not to worry, or be concerned. You're going to look after me. And while you're talking, Doctor, I feel something drift across my face, soft as silk. Specifically, across my eyes. You pull it tighter - a band, and secure it at the back of my head. I try to blink, but everything's dark. Doctor - you've blindfolded me."

"Uh - " _Anthony says. "_Blindfolded?_"_

"Yes. My God. And then the touching starts. Non-sexual, light easy strokes up and down my arms, my shoulders, my back as far as my waist. You're still standing behind me Doctor, and you're murmuring so quietly I can barely make out the words. Despite not being able to see I feel utterly relaxed and trusting. Even when your hands slip to my sides and start to touch my waist and hips I'm still relaxed. Once you reach my ass it's a different story, because you really spend a bit of time there, fondling my cheeks, applying a little pressure, letting your fingers delve inwards slightly and downwards - approaching the private regions of me but not actually going there. I shift my weight from foot to foot, tilting my hips, even pushing into your hands because what you're doing has stopped being relaxing and is now having the opposite effect, but you switch tactics. You move your hands to my front. And you step closer. Oh Doctor. Oh. You're brushing up and down through my shirt, grazing so delicately over my breasts and nipples and trailing your hands over the tops of my thighs. It's tantalizing. I'm getting really turned on, and I actually whimper. Both your arms are around me and your chest is against my back - and Doctor - what is that I can feel against my ass? Is that your penis? Have you got a hard-on?"

"Ah - yes, Marie. Please excuse me - but you're a very beautiful, sexy woman. How could I stand this close to you, your body in my arms, touching you the way I am, and not have a reaction?" _Anthony says huskily_.

"Well, I do trust that you're going to act completely professionally," _I tell him, although considering he's supposed to be acting in his capacity as an orgasm therapist and a fuck doctor, for him to be professional he'll need to give me fireworks. Oh, I hope he's going to be completely professional, for sure._

"Of course I am, Marie. I've sworn an oath. I'm going to do my best to make certain you're fully satisfied with all aspects of our session," _Anthony says with the suggestion of a smirk in his voice. Oh, he's cute._

"And then, Doctor, you say that we need to be more comfortable. We need to sit down. You take me by the hand and lead me a few steps to the divan I saw in your room when I first came in, and you seat me on it. Then you explain we've reached the next stage. With your help, I need to remove some clothes. You're asking for my assent, and when I nod, I feel your hands at my feet. You've knelt in front of me, holding my boot by the heel and ankle. One boot comes off, and then the other, and then you're asking for my permission to undo my pants. I love that you're asking me, Doctor, you're ensuring that I consent to you. I do consent, you know. I stand up as you practically peel my jeans off of me - and they're so soft and clingy they're almost jeggings. I have to really squirm so that you can get them over my hips, and I'm squirming on the inside as well to think that since you're on your knees, your face is right at the level of my - well, you know what, Doctor. My pelvis. My crotch. My groin. I'm glad I've got nice underwear on. They're not especially sexy - but they're red with cream lace insets, and I'm wearing a matching bra. Not that you can see my bra, since it's really plunging. Actually - I guess this lingerie set _is_ pretty sexy. There's not much to it - the bra and panties are triangles of satin held together with gold ribbon bows. The whole lot would probably fall off if a puff of wind happened to blow at it. But as long as your fingers don't stray to the bows at my hips, or the bow between my breasts, everything should stay in place. I've got no idea where your fingers are going to go though, Doctor, although I know where I'd like them. You start stroking again, and your fingers are at my waist, almost tickling, then progressing over my belly, tracing featherlight circles that slowly increase in pressure. You flatten your hands so that your palms are on my thighs, my hips, and around me holding my ass. Your breath fans against my abdomen as your fingertips slip beneath the fabric. You've got huge hands, Doctor. And I can feel that you're very strong. You're more or less supporting me, because I'm starting to get a little unsteady. More than a little - without meaning to I sway, away from the slight pressure you're exerting against my backside, and I unintentionally push myself right into your face. I feel your nose, your mouth, your chin even though I can't see a thing. It's a little embarrassing Doctor - like I'm trying to press my pelvic mound into your mouth. I'm not - honestly, although it's an idea I could really run with. I've made you gasp a little, sorry. I hope you're not hurt."

"Hurt?" _Anthony says with a breathy chuckle_. "Because you're pelvic thrusting in my face? No, I'm not hurt."

"Well, I'm glad. I wouldn't want the session to end prematurely. Oh, I didn't mean to - make such a silly pun. You tell me to sit down again and you ease me backwards, and then the mattress dips behind me, and oh my God, you're there, sitting behind me, stretching your legs out on either side of mine. The whole front of your body is so tightly against my back it's like we're glued, and since my legs are bare I can feel your thighs around mine - oh Doctor! Before I can even catch my breath you've reached around and you're stroking the insides of my thighs. My _naked_ thighs. You're ramping it up, Doctor, and my heartrate blasts off into the stratosphere. You bring one hand to my breast, over my shirt, and start to fondle me there, and the other hand is skimming over my panties, between my legs. We're so close together I can feel every breath you take, and I can feel your erection jutting into my lower back. And - is that your teeth on the side of my neck, lightly grazing my skin just below the hairline? You're nibbling me? All of it is devastating - I've got nerve endings firing everywhere we're in contact. Because of the visual deprivation my other senses are heightened and every touch of your skin to mine is electrifying. You're well into your initiative now Doctor, and I feel limp and helpless as I'm overtaken by so much sensation. My head sinks back against you, I'm just melting. Your fingers are persistent as you keep stroking me over my panties, soft and slow even though by now I'm arching upwards trying to intensify the pressure. Your other hand is still cupping my breast and I can hear your breath getting heavier, I can feel the way your chest is moving behind me. And Doctor, your dick is really hard, _really _hard. Your voice is so low in my ear you're almost growling and I don't understand a word, if you're even using words. You sound so sexy I just get hotter and wetter. I need you to move your fingers faster - I need to you get them _inside_ my panties, and onto my clit, but no matter how I writhe you just won't speed up. And I'm starting to moan a little now. And through all of this, I can't see anything. Nothing whatsoever. Pure physical sensation is pouring over me, drowning me, igniting me. I'm gasping for oxygen Doctor, starting to pant and grunt, and I'm getting more and more impatient against your fingers. I'm getting urgent. I make a grab for your hand to try and force you to do what I need, but you let go of my breast and take my wrist. You're really strong - far stronger than I am. You're saying "No," in this deep, guttural voice and you're preventing me from taking over and doing what I want. I'm trying to fight you. I move my other hand but you grasp it quickly and we're at an impasse. I can't touch myself with you imprisoning both my wrists, but you can't touch me either. I attempt to free myself but I can't, you're too powerful. Your breath is hot against my neck and I realize through my panting that you're saying "Let me. Stop resisting me. Let _me_ do this." Jesus, Doctor - you're so - so calmly _insistent_, in such an understated way. You'd let me go in a flash if I asked you to, but unless I do you're going to restrain me. I'm already blindfolded. I'm already held between your thighs, pinned to your body. And even though I'm reaching heights of arousal I didn't know I was capable of, my wriggling and twisting isn't going to be enough for me to reach the finish line. You've got to touch me properly. I need it. You've got to touch my clit - moisten your fingers and tease me, stroke me - you've got to!"

"Marie, Marie," _Anthony purrs hoarsely, his broken voice a caress._ "You're so beautiful when you're inflamed like this. You're going to get what you want, I promise. I'm not going to let you down. I'm going to make you explode. But you have to let me do it my way. You have to let go. Are you going to let go?"

_I've tried to keep my own fingers on the outside of my underwear but I don't know how much longer I can hold out. His breathing is getting louder and more irregular, setting off an ache inside me that's just unfillable. _

"Yes, Yes, I'll let go," _I babble, needing so much. _Needing_. I wonder if he can hear it in my voice, how genuine this is for me._

"Doctor, I won't interfere. Just - please, don't stop. Please. You know what you're doing. _I _know what you're doing - you're turning me to _lava_. Doctor, I've never been this aroused before. Your fingers know secrets. Your whole body, pressed against me the way it is, sets me on fire. Your dick - oh my God - I want it so _badly_, but I don't want you to halt what you've been doing. Oh, please, I'm close. So close."

"So close to what, Marie?" _he slurs, sounding drugged._

"Oh - oh," _I moan._ "So _close_ - your fingers, you've found me again but you're still outside my underwear and still so _slow!_ It's torture, it's torment, it's exquisite and agonizing. I'm having trouble holding myself back from directing you but I know if I don't play by your rules you're going to stop again. Doctor - you're a tease. Did anyone ever tell you that? You're a clit tease."

"Is that how you feel?" _he moans back to me. We're really getting somewhere - those faint slick, sliding sounds I've come to need are right there. I'm like Pavlov's dog, drooling. I feel extra saliva in my mouth, and if he was with me I'd climb down his abdomen and lubricate his cock with it - make him so fucking ready for me. But those sounds affect me elsewhere, too. Normally I'd lick my fingers for the moisture I need, but hearing how hot he is for me I'm so wet I don't need any assistance. My fingers fly, deft and sure._

"You must be aware of how I feel," _I pant back to him. "_My underwear is soaked, I can't keep my hips still, my heart is pounding - what's your professional opinion?"

"Marie, my professional opinion is that you're - nearing orgasm," _he says. Smartass. I'm too fucking near orgasm to call him on it. I'm guessing he's in pretty much the same condition._

"Nearing,"_ I agree._ "Will you please for the love of God touch me? Doctor - _oh_. _Oh._ You're using both hands. You've slipped them inside my panties and you're holding my lips apart with the fingers of one hand and circling my clit with the other, lightly, wetly - " _I break off, because this is exactly what I'm doing to myself - and imagining a long lean body behind me, arms around me, and a man's hands performing this deed, while I can't fucking see anything, is going to finish me. Caught up in the fantasy, I can't speak for moments._

"Marie - Marie, fuck!" _my caller gasps. "Both_ my hands? Is that good for you?"

"Oh, Doctor, yes, yes, so good. But I'm frantic, frenzied - clutching at your legs, my head thrashing from side to side. I want to shriek like a banshee and I want to force you - _force_ you to stop holding back with me! You're stroking my lips, my inner lips, Doctor, with such a light touch that I'm thrusting violently into your hand. If you didn't still have your pants on my nails would be gouging my desire and frustration into your thighs. Please Doctor, please, fuck, please... the feel of your hard cock behind me makes me want to lift myself just enough to push back hard and rip your pants apart and pull you into me. Jesus - the _effect_ you're having on me, I'm at fever pitch."

_Anthony lets out a groan_. "You're very - responsive - Marie," _he manages to say_.

_I growl._ "Doctor, I want to scratch you. I want to bite you. I want to turn around and jam my hand into your pants and pull out that big cock I know is in there, and I want to ride you like a rocket to oblivion. Not being able to see has intensified everything, it's made me focussed on your voice, your scent, your _touch_, and on my body's reactions to you. The pleasure and anticipation are both so acute - Doctor, I can't stand it. I'm going to lose my mind. I'm right on the brink but you're just not doing enough - you've got to let me take over - "

_I'm about to come. Shit. Fingering myself, unable to decelerate, my whole being attuned to Anthony's rasping breaths and the imminent starburst in my clit, I'm at the point of no return._

"_Doctor_ - oh, _oh_ - " _I all but sob. _

_He gives a strangled gasp back._ "M-Marie?"

"Oh! You've - you've - oh - slipped your fingers into me. You're in me. You're - in - "

_Powerful contractions wrack my body._ _In staggering tones I tell him,_ "I'm coming. I'm coming - so - _hard _- " _and through the rushing in my ears I hear him lose control. My surroundings disappear, the world disappears as I'm shaken by spasms at the same time as hearing him grunt and cry out. _

_Afterwards, I'm recovering, the world puts itself back together piece by piece and I lie back and wish I could be held. It's just not possible._

"Marie? You're still there? Talk to me," _Anthony says, sounding as sated as I feel._

"Thank you, that was really good. _Really_," _I say_.

"For me too," _he agrees._ "But Marie - you do realize you're going to need more than one session?"

"Pardon?" _I mumble, post-orgasmic stupor making me sleepy._

"As your consultant physician I recommend a follow-up appointment as soon as possible. Tomorrow would be optimal in terms of continuing the progress we've made today. The manual procedure has proven successful, and I have an oral treatment I'd like to try next."

_You're cheeky, Anthony. I start to grin._

"Oral? You mean pills? Medicine?" _I ask, making my tone innocent._

"You know exactly what I mean," _he says._

_Oh, perhaps I do. And thank you so much, Anthony, for this suggestion of yours which I swear will give me insomnia tonight. Although, perhaps the bone-shattering orgasm I just had might override the tantalising, sleeplessness-inducing memory of my caller with his deep seductive voice and his passionate responses and the thrilling sounds he makes in the throes of climax._

"Well. Ah - yes. I'll make a follow-up appointment,"_ I offer. "_This time tomorrow?_"_

"Consider it written in stone. Oh, and Marie?" _he adds, as I'm just about to hang up._ "I need to take your blindfold off."

_I'd forgotten._ "Oh, thank you," _I say, almost laughing._ "Wow - there you are, Doctor. How nice to see you."

"I wish I could see _you_," _he murmurs._

_Well, Anthony, I wish I could see you, too. But I can't. It's as simple as that._

_I press end call._


	7. The Client

**Press "end call" 7**

_There are people who are clock-watchers, I imagine there are people who stare expectantly at their inboxes, and there's me, impatiently regarding my phone._

_When it rings I take a deep breath before pushing the green icon. This one's going to be a gamble._

"Yes?"

"Hi there, gorgeous," _his voice says._

"Please identify yourself," _I reply._

"It's me, Anthony."

"Anthony? Thank you for calling. Now I'm sure the agency will have apprised you of standard procedure. Before we go any further, I need to acquaint you with my personal charter of service, and then you need to let me know whether you're prepared to accept the arrangement. Your acceptance means your agreement to comply with the charter, Anthony. Do you understand?"

"Ah - charter? I think we already know I'm prepared to accept our arrangement, so okay," _he says._

"Okay is not an answer. Let's try again. I will tell you the rules and explain what I expect from you, and you will tell me whether or not you agree to follow those rules and behave as I expect you to. Do you understand, Anthony?" _I ask again._

_I hear a sort of grin in his voice as he clears his throat._ "Oh. Yes, Baby, I understand," _he agrees._

"Splendid. Firstly, you do not refer to me as Baby, or Gorgeous or Honey or any other frivolous endearment that may strike you spontaneously. When you speak to me, you will address me as Mistress. Is that clear?"

"_Mistress?_" _He's definitely smiling._ "Perfectly clear. Mistress."

"Secondly, you will do whatever I instruct you to do, no questions asked. That may include, but is not restricted to, chauffering, escort duties, and from time to time, taking care of my personal needs, as directed."

"Personal needs, Mistress?" _He's smirking now, and once I tell him exactly what I mean, he's going to cream himself, I'm sure of it._

"Personal needs, Anthony," _I say again._ "Now with regard to all of the aforementioned, you will never be late, you will never be early. You will always come - that is to say _arrive_ - exactly when I tell you to. You will perform as required. My directives are primary and paramount. Transgression of my directives will meet with consequences. Please repeat what I've just said so I know that you've got it."

"I will always come on time, exactly when you tell me to," _he says, and I think he may be grinning like he's just won Olympic gold._ "Your directives are primary and paramount. There will be discipline for transgression."

"I didn't use the word _discipline_, Anthony. And you omitted to call me Mistress. What did I say?"

"Uh - consequence, Mistress. You said transgression would incur a consequence."

"That's right, Anthony. Well done. I think you and I are going to get along very well."

"So do I."

"So do I, _Mistress_," _I remind him again._ "Then we're agreed, Anthony?"

_There's a microsecond while he wonders just what he's letting himself in for, but he's curious and he's game._ "Yes, Mistress," _he affirms._

_You won't regret it, Anthony._

"Good. I'm pleased to see that your presentation is immaculate, Anthony. I specified black tie in my desiderata for tonight; I stressed that my companion be tall and well-groomed and extremely handsome, all of those pre-requisites being non-negotiable. So far, you measure up. Are you able to hold an intelligent conversation on a variety of topics, Anthony?"

"I believe you'll find my conversational ability more than adequate, though you'll discover I'm even more able in other areas," _he drawls, and fuck, his confidence is sexy. _

"_Mistress_," _I correct him._

"If we're in public and I'm your date, surely you'd prefer that I speak to you by name?"

_So fucking sexy._

"Anthony, at this particular function you'll be wearing a collar, with a leash attached. I will be holding your leash, and you will address me as Mistress and you will _not _forget your position," _I inform him._

_There's a distinct splutter in response._

"I hope you take instruction well," _I add._

"Mistress, I'll do my best," _he answers, though sounding smug rather than chastened. __I had no idea what reception this particular fantasy would elicit but he's hot for it, and we're having fun already. I've never done this to anyone in real life and Anthony honestly doesn't sound like the sort of guy who wants to act the submissive, but he's going along with it and I'm feeling the tingle in my ladygarden that he just keeps giving me. It's almost not fair, the way he turns me on so fast._

"Anthony, I'm going to hand you my car keys and I want you to take the wheel. I stipulated a safe driver, Anthony, because it's a fetish of mine to touch a man's genital area while he's driving. You're going to need to spread your legs, Anthony, so I've got plenty of room to play. What do you think I mean by genital area, Anthony?"

"Cock?" _he offers with enthusiasm and without hesitation_. "Balls?" _he adds, nearly as quickly._

"Excellent, Anthony - that's exactly what I mean. But you're forgetting your manners, and I'm going to have to give you your first consequence. So I'm not going to touch your cock or your balls. I hope you're a quick learner Anthony, for your sake. But you may enjoy this anyway. Part your thighs, Anthony, and make room so that I can reach where I want to go. Can you feel my hand on your leg? Eyes forward, please. Can you feel my fingers touching you? I like a smooth ride, Anthony, don't allow yourself to become distracted. This car doesn't have cruise control - you'll need to maintain a steady pressure on the accelerator. I must say I'm impressed at your musculature. Your thigh feels firm and strong. I like the fabric of your suit, Anthony, because with your pants stretched taut like this, I'm enjoying the texture as I scratch with my fingernails from your knee to your groin. I specified no underwear, Anthony. I hope I'm not going to feel another layer of material between my fingers and your skin. I hope it's just _you_ in there, commando. Are you commando inside that dress suit, Anthony?"

"Yes, Mistress, as requested," _he says, and I lick my lips. Thank you, Anthony, thank you very much._

"Good, Anthony, because I don't want to negotiate layers of clothing. I want there to be hardly anything between me and you. Now remember, hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal, Anthony, eyes on the road. That's quite a bulge nestling there between your thighs, I see. Very nice. I'll certainly inspect that later. But for now, Anthony, there's another part of the male body that fascinates me. It's the very root of the penis, located below the scrotal sac. The perineum. It's smooth and solid and rounded, and when a man is sexually aroused, his perineum becomes just as rigid as his cock. That's where I want to touch you, Anthony. But you're going to have to concentrate on your driving. This isn't a game. This is me checking out the goods. Of course, when you're sitting down, access to the perineum is limited unless you're in a state of high excitement. Your testicles are probably in a relaxed condition right now, and they'll be low. If you were really turned on, and your ball sac had tightened so much that your balls felt distended and firm, they'd rise and I'd be able to get my hand in underneath them easily. It's not so easy now, Anthony. I guess I'll have to wait. My advertisement asked for a man with a nice _package_ - large testicles and a large penis. Large when _flaccid_, Anthony. Long and thick. And when erect? I asked for the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Anthony. You're definitely tall, and undeniably handsome - but what about the rest of it, Anthony? Are you going to fulfil all my requirements?"

"Mistress, I'm ready to show you how I'll fulfil your requirements right now. You won't be disappointed," _my caller assures me._

"Right now is not the appropriate time, Anthony, although I appreciate your zeal," _I chide softly. Then I think about what he's said, what he's offered. I can't resist._

"Actually - your suggestion has some merit. Since you've mentioned it, Anthony, before we go into the party it might be a good idea that I conduct an inspection, to ensure that I'm getting exactly what I stipulated. I'm already impressed with your driving. You're masterful, Anthony, totally in command. Your hands are decisive as they grip the wheel and your movements are smooth and confident. You're graceful, Anthony, and I like that. You're very sure. I find it sexy, the fact that you're effortlessly proficient. And Anthony, I must say admire your technique in taking the curves. The way you're easing us around corners, slowing just a little and then accelerating once we're back on the straight. I think it augurs well. And this parking space was particularly tight, Anthony, yet you executed real precision in getting such a big car into somewhere so narrow. Full marks for finesse, Anthony. Now switch off the ignition and face me, please. My curiosity is piqued and there's something I'd like to see. I hope you're co-operative, Anthony. Are you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Anything you ask of me, I'll co-operate," _Anthony says, with what sounds like a snicker._ "Your wish is my command."

_Oh, good. Glad you're assuming the role so thoroughly and so willingly. I'm going to be taking you slow and hot tonight, because sometimes that's what I want. Jesus - do you like going slow and hot, Anthony? It's not just about riding a speeding bullet to the glittering prize is it? It's about getting there, and we don't have to rush. But we don't have to slow to a standstill, either. Let's maintain the momentum._

"I'll bear that in mind. Now, would you loosen your tie please, Anthony? Would you undo it altogether and leave the ends dangling? I'm fascinated watching your fingers. You're very dextrous. Now the buttons of your shirt. One by one, reveal yourself to me. Nice and gradual, thank you, Anthony. I want to see how you're built. Your chest, your torso, your abdomen. And I want to see your body hair. Do you manscape? Do you trim? I prefer hair on a man, Anthony. I don't want a date who looks like a little boy, I like a man to look sexually mature. Now, pull your shirt aside and show me your nipples. Well, thank you. Mmm. They're nice, more than nice. I'm sure they'd feel good to touch. I'm sure they'd taste good. Are you an afficionado of delayed gratification, Anthony? I am, and so savoring your nipples is a treat I'm going to set aside for myself to enjoy later. Amongst other things. Do you like saving treats for later, Anthony?"

"Sometimes," _Anthony says_. "Mistress." _There's no panting yet - from his end, anyhow. I'm fucking happy with the fantasy visual at my end, but I need my caller to be happy too. I need to rev things up._

"Now, Anthony, another of my favorite aspects of the male anatomy is the line of hair that runs north and south from the navel. I'm very appreciative of yours, it's remarkable. Beautiful. Just as soon as I've had my fill of your nipples later on I'm going to follow that line with my tongue, Anthony, seeing where it's going to lead me. But I'd like a preview. I want you to unbuckle your belt, then slide the zipper down on your pants. Slow, please. When it's my birthday I don't like to unwrap my gifts too quickly and even though it's not my birthday today, I certainly feel like you're a gift. I want to linger over discovering you. I'm letting the anticipation build-up, the tension. It's all about the tension, don't you think, Anthony? There's quite a bit of tension now, as you're starting to pull your trousers open - revealing where your treasure trail merges with your pubic hair. Oh God - you're gorgeous. Just perfect. So sexy. You're trimmed just a little, enough for your hair not to be a forest, but enough for me to play with, to stroke. I'm salivating, Anthony, and my mouth is slightly open. I keep having to run my tongue over my lips to moisten them. This is all delicious but there's just one more thing. One more thing I want to see before we get out of this car and go to the party. Anthony - I want to see your penis."

"Yes, yes. I want you to look at me. I'm hard for you, so hard," _he growls_.

_Oh?_

"I beg your pardon?" _I say abruptly._

"I'm fucking hard, just from the way you talk to me. From the way you look at me."

"I _beg _your pardon?" _I repeat._ "Are you forgetting something, Anthony?"

"Ah - oh. Mistress. My dick is hard for you, Mistress. It's wet with pre-cum."

_Naughty boy, Anthony_._ So very naughty. Well, don't say I didn't warn you._

"But I don't want your dick to be hard, Anthony. What I want to see through your open zipper is your fat cock lying dormant and soft against your thigh. You don't have my permission to be _hard_, Anthony," _I reprimand_.

"Mistress?" _he asks, taken aback_.

"I want to see your penis flaccid. Limp. I want to see the shape of it, the curve, the length, the weight. Did I instruct you to develop an erection? Did I at any time direct you to make yourself erect?"

"No. But what you were saying to me was arousing. It's not something I could control - my dick got stiff all by itself. Your voice is very sexy, Mistress," _he says_.

"Don't try to mollify me, Anthony," _I reply._

"Mistress, you were being provocative," _he responds. He's answering back, and I love it. I knew he wouldn't be completely passive, it's just not in his nature. While I'm taking on different personas for these calls, he's being himself. _

"Whether you consider me provocative or not is immaterial. This is a misdemeanor. I suggest you take steps to rectify the situation."

_He inhales. _"What do you mean?"

"I mean I want to go in to the party, Anthony, accompanied by you, and I don't want your appearance to be - disreputable. I'll give you five minutes to resolve your predicament."

"Mistress - my hard-on isn't going to just go away. To get rid of it I'm going to have to come. How about you resolve the situation for me?" _he invites_.

_Oh, I would love to, believe me - but today's power-play doesn't allow for it._

"I think not, Anthony," _is my terse reply_. "You _can_ reach climax in five minutes, I presume, if you put your mind to it?"

"I can if you put your mouth to it," _he answers. He could be just about to earn himself the discipline he mentioned earlier - but I don't want to go down that track. I've got something else in store._

"That's not on the agenda, Anthony," _I admonish_. "I'd like you to get out of the car now, please."

"Out of the car?"

"Yes. I don't want my cleaning service to find anything untoward on the upholstery. There's no need to put your clothes back together. Leave them exactly as they are - your shirt open, your tie dangling, your belt and zipper undone, thank you. Now please walk around to the passenger's side of the vehicle..."

"Uh, why?" _he replies, clearly confused_.

"To conclude your business."

"_What?" _

_I nearly laugh at his startled yelp._

"Anthony, we're underground, and it's fairly dark. Currently we're the only two people in this car lot. Kindly proceed around the car to the window on my side. I want to see the angle of your erection when standing. My preference is for an erection to be at around ninety degrees. That way, I know a man is capable of sexual intercourse in almost any position without it being uncomfortable for him. So show yourself to me Anthony, through the window. You'll be at the height of my face, with me still sitting in here. I want to observe your masturbatory technique, Anthony. The basic fist grip is my favorite, I have to admit, when a man's whole hand is wrapped around his shaft as he pumps. But perhaps I'm getting a little ahead of things, because I like him to start with his thumb and fingertips, a loose hold as he coaxes himself to rigidity. Very good, Anthony, I can see you're listening and paying attention. Your cock is only a few inches from my mouth right now - it's almost a shame there's a sheet of glass between us. But just think, Anthony - you'll come in my face and I won't need to fix my make-up. You can spurt your creamy ejaculate as hard and far as it will go, Anthony, holding your cock to aim it right at me and I can even open my mouth and extend my tongue to taste you and lick you and lap it up and swallow it all - and it won't go in my mouth. Ideal, don't you think? You have a glorious cock, Anthony, and I especially like seeing you tug on it like this. I like what's happening to your balls, how they're swinging just a little. When you get worked up they're going to swing a whole lot more, aren't they? I'm going to enjoy that, although it won't last long, because I know they're going to swell and tighten when you're ready to shoot your load, when your head's shiny and engorged, dark red with the extra blood in it, and your shaft is granite hard, diamond hard. When you want to shatter into a million pieces, erupt like a volcano, blast off like a rocket. Are you enjoying pleasuring yourself while I watch and listen, Anthony? Or would you prefer to be inside me right now, feeling my hot wet pussy all around you instead of your hand?"

"Oh, fuck. I like you watching me, but you know I want to be inside your pussy," _he says_.

"No, I don't know that. I have no idea about you, what your preferences are, what you want. You might be into tits, you might like sucking them and rubbing your face between them, or rubbing your cock all over them. You might be into asses, you might want me to get on my hands and knees in front of you so that you could clutch me by the ass while you fuck me. You might be into thighs, wanting to kneel between mine and hold them wide open, stroking them while you plunge deeply in and out of me. I haven't asked you what you like, because I'm interested in what _I_ like. I like seeing you pulling on your cock. _All_ the way up and down please, Anthony. You said you were wet with pre-cum. I want you to spread it over the head of your dick and pull your foreskin right up to cover it, then strongly and smoothly back down as far as you can. You need to do that several times Anthony, to lubricate yourself so that you can pick up speed. I want to watch your foreskin glide over the heavy ridge, I want to watch your dick pointing straight at me, directly at me while you're jerking yourself, jacking yourself, Anthony. And you know what else? I want to hear you moan. Do it, Anthony. Do it for me. I'm motionless in the car while you stand outside, leaning over my window, supporting yourself with one hand while the other is heaving up and down on your dick and you're beating off, jerking your hips, moving your hand faster and faster, because I've told you to come. Are you getting there, Anthony? Are you getting close to coming? Are your balls swollen and ready and can you feel the gathering of _force_ in your thighs, feel the tightening, feel the imperative to release?"

_I hope so, Anthony. Tell me._

"Fuck, yeah, I'm nearly there, nearly," _he pants_. "Baby - can you talk about pulling your dress up and showing me your underwear? Or tell me you're fondling your tits? Grabbing them, squeezing them? I need more - I need you to tell me more."

"You do?" _I croon_. "Well, that's a shame, Anthony, because your five minutes just finished, even if you didn't. Open my door please so that I can get out."

_There's a pause in his panting. Then he gasps,_ "_What? _Fuck. Jesus - are you serious? We've stopped?"

_Oh, poor boy. All worked up and nowhere to blow._

"I did advise you that there was a time limit on your activity," _I say_. "I don't mean to be cruel, Anthony, it's just that our hosts are expecting me - I don't want to arrive late. Please re-arrange yourself. I'm sorry about the state you're in, but I'd appreciate your trying to minimize it. We don't want to look like a spectacle. Now before we make our entrance, I have one more thing to ask of you."

"Anything," _he says, quickly, because he's hoping it's something hot. It is, Anthony, don't you worry. But it's not going to give you any relief just yet. We've got a little while to go._

"Thank you, Anthony. Your willingness to do as I ask is noted. You see this coat I'm wearing tonight? Such a vibrant color, so passionate, this deep, sensuous red. And the fabric is more than a little clingy. To tell you the truth, this coat isn't all that warm, really, because the fabric is so pliant. Not stiff, as you would normally expect a trenchcoat to be. I had this coat made to order, Anthony, and it's perfectly fitted to my shoulders, my chest, my waist and hips. I've belted it in even further around my waist to show off my curvaceous figure. I'm not making a spurious claim, Anthony, I truly am shaped like an hourglass, you can see for yourself. But I'm worried my outline is spoilt by - well, do you know what a VPL is, Anthony? Those initials stand for visible panty line. The fabric of my coat is so fine, and the cut is so close that I'm a little concerned people will be able to see the indentation of my panties where the elastic lies across my ass cheeks. So Anthony - this will only take a moment, I'm going to very quickly slide my panties off and give them to you. Would you look after them for me? They're silk, they're rather delicate, and they were very expensive. They're warm, Anthony, from my body heat, and I'm afraid they may even be somewhat damp, after my watching your display. Your cock. You masturbating in my face, with the window pane between us. I was really anticipating your come splattering on the glass. That was very, very sexy, Anthony. Will you keep my panties in your pocket during the party for me, Anthony?"

"Oh, shit," _he breathes_.

"I gather that's a yes, Anthony. Now I'll straighten my coat as we walk, make sure it's as form fitting as it's meant to be while still giving me respectable coverage. It's very business-like, contrasting sharply with how it emphasizes my shape. These heels of mine are pretty high - five inches. Balancing on them really makes my hips sway and my ass stick out, flexing my calves and arching my back. There'll be a lot of influential, important people at this party, Anthony, and I'm sure you and I will make a good impression. There's something I should mention, though, before we circulate. Something I should check. Anthony, if I bend a little towards you, and your gaze happens to drift downwards, towards my cleavage, I hope the button placement on my coat is high enough to be discreet. Do you know what I mean?"

"No," _he answers. Never fear, Anthony, we're getting ready to heat up again._

"Well, have a look, Anthony. Down my front. Between my breasts. The valley there. You're probably not sure what I'm talking about, but the thing is Anthony - if it gets warm tonight I won't be taking my coat off. Even if things get so humid I'm flushed and perspiring. Because, Anthony - I'm wearing nothing underneath this coat. Not a stitch. No dress, no bra - and of course you know I have no panties - they're in your pocket. I'm completely bare, Anthony - naked. So if it gets really hot I don't know what I'll do. You'll need to be responsible, Anthony. You'll need to have an eye on me at all times, because I'll be a little vulnerable. Will you keep watch, Anthony?"

"Jesus - are you going to do this to me all night? Tease me? You make me stroke my cock in front of you but you stop me before I can come, then you give me your damp panties and tell me you're not wearing anything - I'm going to have blue balls and a heart attack," _my caller says._

"You sound a little petulant," _I remark_. "I think it's probably time I put your collar on, to remind you of your role tonight."

"I'm not petulant. I'm just fucking turned on," _he growls back. "_I don't give a damn about your party, or my role, _Mistress_. You think I really feel like escorting you anywhere when your underwear is soaking my pocket, and my dick is standing at half-mast just from listening to you talk? You think I'm in the mood for banal chit-chat with a roomful of strangers?"

"Anthony..." _I start._

"You know - " _he says back to me_. "That really is a very stylish coat, and I'm happy for you to keep it on and I'll try not to destroy it while I fuck you all the way to next week on the hood of the car. Then, if you still need to socialize, we can go to your party. And I'll fuck you again, against the first flat surface we see, which will probably be the front door."

_Jesus he's hot. Who knew he'd hijack the scenario like this?_

"Really, Anthony? That's what you'd like to do?" _I purr, because he's so fucking sexy when he's being commanding. I want him to keep talking. I want him to growl and curse and groan so that I can finger myself and get off._

"Just give me the word, that's exactly what I'm _going_ to do," _he answers_. "So what's it to be? Your ass on the car with your legs spread apart and me between them, fingering your clit and sliding my cock in and out of your delectable pussy, or the two of us mincing around some insufferable social gathering for far too fucking long, counting down the seconds until we can get out of there and have each other? Because that's what we both want, isn't it?"

"Uh - yes," _I agree, a little weakly._

_He snorts._ "You'll have to speak with a lot more conviction than that if I'm going to pull your pretty coat up and my pants down, and hold your legs open and push my rigid cock into you. A half-hearted assent isn't going to get the job done. May I remind you you're the one in charge here, _Mistress?_ You'll have to order me. Direct me. Be explicit."

_Oh boy. I need to gather myself, slip back into character. _

"Anthony," _I state after taking a moment to regain composure,_ "You're getting a little above yourself."

"Another minute and I'll be above you," _he murmurs_.

"Anthony," _I repeat, more firmly._ "I'm afraid this simply won't do, this sort of talk from you. You're in breach of the terms of our arrangement. I am the boss and you're speaking out of turn. And for the record, there is absolutely no possibility of your doing anything whatsoever to me on the hood of my car. It's very valuable and I don't want it getting scratched."

"Oh, you can be assured I'll be very considerate of the car. If I'm not you can spank me," _he smirks. Well fuck me dead. I take a deep breath._

"Anthony, you seem to be somewhat rampant right now. I think you're letting your penis rule your intellect. Obviously when you're in this state of mind you're not capable of the sort of obedience I require - so clearly I'm going to have to take measures to ensure your future compliance. Now as it happens, Anthony, I'm feeling rather _needful_. It's time I put you to the test. I'll go easy on you for round one, Anthony. No acrobatics necessary - I'm not after a gymnast or an athlete. I'm going to stand at the front of the car and I want you to untie the knot on my belt. As you can see there are no buttons, so you can understand my concern at having adequate coverage in public. When you're the only one looking at me I'm perfectly fine if my coat falls open once the belt's undone, and if, when I put my hands on the hood behind me to ease myself onto my back, you can see me, bare from neck to ankle. I'm sure my body looks inviting, Anthony. My breasts are full and slightly heavy and they really move. My belly is rounded, my hips are curved, flaring out from my waist down to my thighs. I took ballet lessons for years, Anthony. My thighs are very strong. Strong enough to make a grown man cry when they're wrapped around him, though I assure you it's not from pain. It's from sheer, agonizing pleasure - because if my thighs are wrapped around a man it means he's in me. All the way in me, not some shallow penetration where the head of his cock has barely breached my entrance - I mean he's sheathed to the hilt. And that's what I want, Anthony. _Depth_. It's not something everyone can give me, because not everybody is big enough. And it's why I don't want fancy positions with my legs akimbo, pulled every which way. I'm extremely flexible Anthony - you'd be amazed at how extensile I am, but what I need from you right now isn't creativity and variety. What I need is length. Size. Girth. Hardness. And Anthony, one more thing. If you're going to fuck me right now on my car as I lie back and spread open for you - do you know what else I want?"

_He's started now, I know by the hoarseness of his reply_. "You want me to rub your clit?"

"No, I definitely do not. If you're fucking me right you won't need to rub my clit. Not with your fingers anyway. That's not what I'm talking about," _I say, although it's what I'm doing_.

"You want me to play with your breasts?"

"No, Anthony, I don't. You're going to need one hand on the car bracing yourself, and the other under my ass, holding me tight as you thrust so that you can get as deep as possible."

"What is it then? What do you want from me?"

"I want endurance, Anthony. I need you to fuck me good and long and hard, solid and strong and rhythmic, over and over. I want you to line yourself up with me, your throbbing head pressing against my slit, and easing in, stretching and opening me inch by inch. Then I want you to pull your rigid cock all the way out of my aching pussy on every stroke, and plunge it back inside me all the way. I'm so wet you'll be gliding smoothly, and you'll be picking up the pace because we'll both be so excited, and you're going to feel so good, so good. You're going to feel my texture and my heat, you're going to feel my slippery, silken pussy sucking on you with every outstroke, imploring you to return. You're going to feel me welcoming you, greedy and soft and warm, enveloping your cock, engulfing you. You're going to feel my hips rise to meet you, my thighs around you, my calves against your ass guiding you, drawing you into me, not letting you go. I don't want to let you go, Anthony, until I've had enough, and I don't know how can ever get enough."

_He's panting softly_, _he's muttering_, "Oh God, I see you. I feel you. Do you want to come? Can my dick make you come?"

"Yes, Anthony, it can. You've got to raise yourself up on me, so that our bodies are close and our hips are together. My nipples will be stimulated by your hair, your skin, and you'll be able to feel them pebbled against you. I'm going to clasp your thighs with mine, hold you in the cradle of my hips and I want you to keep still, Anthony. Keep still for me. I'm going to rock up against you, grinding my clit against your dick. You've got to be deep, Anthony, deep and hard. You've got to hold on for me while I go crazy beneath you, while I writhe and buck. The pleasure's building up inside me and you've got to last, no matter how much you feel like letting go. I'm pumping my hips desperately, I'm all over your cock, I feel consumed, I feel out of control, I feel _feral_ - "

"Oh, do it - fuck me, like that - fuck me," _he moans. The way his voice sounds broken does it for me. Makes me grit my teeth silently without breathing, everything in me tight and clenched, even my fingers stilled until the waves come, the ripples, the shuddering, the release. I can't even hear him, can't see anything as the vortex claims me, finally loosening as I sigh. _

"Oh, Jesus - that was, that was - you just - didn't you?" _he gasps and it's moved from me to him, the pleasure, the fire. It takes him over, takes him under. I listen as the whirlwind tosses and spins him, then as he recovers, as we both recover, replete in the calm after the storm._

"We're getting pretty good at this, wouldn't you say?" _he murmurs lazily after a while._

"Yeah, pretty good," _I smile. _"How's your wrist?"

_He lets out a bark of laughter_. "Not too bad. How are your fingers?"

_Now I laugh._ "What makes you think I'm not using toys?"

"No buzzing," _he says smugly._

"Dildos don't buzz," _I say, just as smugly_.

"Jesus!" _he exclaims, sounding disconcerted_. "You're using a dildo? Seriously?"

_Hmm. It's as if he's threatened._ "No. Two fingers," _I assure him._

"Inside or outside?"

"Outside. I mean, you know, on my clit. My other hand's holding my cell, or else I'd be using two of those fingers as well."

"Really? Oh girl, I'd give you so much more than that," _he breathes, and his voice is liquid temptation, a honeyed, sinful seduction. _

_I'd love to imagine what he means, picture what he means, but unfortunately that's not going to happen with him still on the line. It's going to be my treat for later._

"Well, nice talking to you. Thanks for calling," _I tell him._

"What? You're going? So soon?"_ he asks._

_He's cuter by the day. Hotter by the day, too. I don't know how much more I can take._

"I'm afraid so," _I say evenly, though I feel distinctly _un_even._

_Before my brain can send the instruction to my hand, I press end call._

_&&&&&&&&&&&&*************^^^^^^^^^$$$$$$$$############ %%%%%%%%%%_

_**AN**: I'm cross-eyed right now but I wanted to post this. Sorry for any mistakes! I'll fix them up, promise._


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